


Reckless, Just Enough

by orphan_account



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst, Best Friends, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Getting Together, Humor, M/M, Nate is A Disaster, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-13 08:04:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 46,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18936820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Nathan MacKinnon has never been the poster boy for good choices, but this might top his Biggest Fuck-Ups list.Gabe, Tyson, and EJ are just here to make sure this doesn't ruin him or the team.





	Reckless, Just Enough

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is a complete work of fiction, and I make no profit for it. The title is from "She Used to be Mine" from Waitress, the musical.
> 
> Set after the Avs elimination from the 2019 Stanley Cup playoffs.
> 
> If you've read A Shot in the Dark, you might recognize some of this. I've expanded a lot on that universe here because my brain wouldn't leave me alone about it. (P. S. You don't have to read that to read this. This is a complete standalone.)

Nate watches his character die on screen, guns and ammunition falling to the ground before he disappears in a steady stream of white light.

“Fuck.”

“You kind of suck at this,” Colin tells him, his own character weaving through a field, dodging the bullets and grenades being sent his way. “Even Cale is better than you, and he hasn’t played anywhere near as much.”

With a pout, Nate chucks his controller down and tracks the remaining characters, irritated to discover that not only is Cale’s character still alive but he’s doing better than any of them.

Fuck, is there anything this kid isn’t good at?

“Pretty sure he was lying about that. He just wanted us to underestimate him, so he could come in and kick our asses without warning.”

Colin’s grin is wide and vicious. “What a sore loser, Nate. Just because Cale is naturally better than you at Fortnite and hockey and dressing himself and feeding himself—”

“Fuck off.”

“Doesn’t mean that you should be a dick to him.”

“I’m not being a dick,” Nate protests, but he might be. He doesn’t know. He’s still raw and irritated from the loss, aching at the missed chances and the stupid swan dive he took into the boards because he wasn’t paying enough attention, desperate and messy and unaware.

He’s also maybe a little bit fucked up over this kid. And what a shit realization that was because he’d been impressed with him, sure, his speed and puck handling, his calm composure as a fresh-faced rookie in the NHL playoffs, but he’d thought that was all it was, knew that was all it should be. But then he’d caught himself staring at Cale’s hands, imagining what else they’d look good wrapped around, and he’d nearly choked on his own spit at the thought.

With that being said, it’s possible—highly likely even—that he is being a bit more dickish than normal to the kid because he doesn’t understand what’s going on in his own head. He’d been fine a month ago, living his life, pushing his team through the playoffs, and then this kid, this fucking kid, showed up and flipped his world upside down in the worst way.

And Nate knows what the media has been saying about Cale, how he could be the missing link, the final piece they need to make a deep run, maybe even come back with the Cup, so whatever the hell is going on with his brain and his dick needs to stop because doing anything about it would be complicated on so many levels and dumb, maybe the dumbest thing Nate could ever do. Which is really saying something because he’s already done plenty of dumb shit. He’s best friends with Tyson Barrie; doing dumb shit is a given.

“I’m not being a dick,” Nate repeats, and Colin shoots him a strange look, like he doesn’t believe him or like Nate took way too long to say anything else, which, yeah, probably.

“Whatever you say, man.”

“I’m not.”

Colin’s character takes a bullet to the head and collapses dramatically. Nate feels vindicated.

“Serves you right.”

With a snort, Colin stands and stretches his arms high in the air. “Whatever. I need to kick you guys out anyways. It’s late, and I’d like to get some sleep.”

“Old timer,” Nate mutters as Cale politely pauses the game and sets his controller on the coffee table, not yet comfortable enough to give them grief about anything.

“You’ll say the same thing when you’re my age,” Colin retorts, hunching over and feigning like he’s got a cane in his hand. “Enjoy your youth while you still have it because someday it’s going to fade away.”

“Fuck, man, you do need sleep if you’re talking like this,” Nate says and snatches up the jacket he had thrown over the back of the couch. “Thanks for the food and everything. We’ll get out of your hair. You good to get home, Cale?”

“Yeah, I’ll get an Uber,” he answers, pulling out his phone and tapping at the screen.

“No way,” Nate says before he has time to think, and when Cale and Colin both turn to eye him, one with a furrowed brow and the other with a smug smirk, he fights off a blush. “I can take you back to the Calvert’s, if you need.”

Cale’s eyes widen in surprise, and Nate doesn’t like that, doesn’t like what it implies about how he’s treated him. “Yeah, okay,” and he sounds hesitant. “That’d be cool.”

“Awesome,” Colin says, “now that you’ve figured that out, please make your way out the front door and home. It’s been great having you, but it’ll be even better to get some peace and quiet.”

Nate scoffs. “Whatever, you fucking love hanging out with us.”

“I like hanging out with Cale,” Colin retorts smoothly, clapping a hand to Nate’s shoulder and shoving him toward the door. “I can’t say the same about you.”

Nate sputters, unsure if Colin is saying that Cale is more fun to hang out with than him or that Nate doesn’t like hanging out with Cale as much as Colin does or what, but he knows he should be offended, so he is. “You love me.”

“Whatever you say.”

“No, you do. I know it.”

“Sure,” Colin agrees and nudges Nate out the door. Cale shuffles past him with a quiet goodnight, reaching out for a bro hug before making his way down the front steps and towards Nate’s car.

“You totally love me, man. Don’t front.”

“Yup, love you, Nate. Now go show the rookie some love because you have been kind of a dick to him, and he doesn’t deserve that.”

“I haven’t been that rude to him.”

Colin just raises a brow in response and shuts the door in his face without another word.

Nate takes it for the disagreement it probably is.

Fuck.

Fuck Colin for being the wise peacekeeper, who’s not afraid to call him out. Fuck Cale for being stupid good at hockey and for making Nate question where he actually falls on the Kinsey scale. And fuck Nate himself for not being smarter than this. He groans and spins on his heel, tromping down the stairs and over to his car.

Cale is already in the passenger seat, buckled up and facing forward, before Nate has even opened his door, and he knows he needs to do something, needs to extend an olive branch because Cale has the makings of a franchise player, and Nate isn’t going anywhere anytime soon, so something needs to change.

“Did I do something to piss you off?”

The words catch Nate off-guard, and he fumbles with his keys when he goes to put them in the ignition, dropping them to floor in a loud clatter.

Awkwardly bending around the wheel to retrieve them, he watches Cale from the corner of his eye. “What?”

“Did I do something to piss you off?” he repeats.

“What do you mean?”

Cale looks terribly uncomfortable, hands fidgeting with his seatbelt, rolling his lower lip between his teeth. “I know it sucks that we got eliminated, and I know I haven’t been here for very long, so it’s probably easier for me to accept the loss because I didn’t put in all the work this season that you did, but I have had some shitty losses before. I mean, I lost the Frozen Four right before I came to play with you guys, so I know how much it sucks, and I thought you were just upset about the loss, but I noticed that you don’t treat the other guys the same way.”

He swallows, and Nate, like the masochist he is, follows the movement with his eyes, mouth gaping open like he can’t get enough air. “So I’m thinking it has something to do with me,” Cale goes on, oblivious to Nate’s lascivious gaze or deliberately ignoring it because it’s weird and probably freaking him out. “And I want to know what I did because I want to play for this team, and I feel like we could do a lot of good stuff together, get important wins together, but that can’t happen if you don’t like me, so what did I do?”

He stops, and there’s a red flush in his cheeks, strong enough that Nate can make it out even in the weak light of the streetlamps, and fuck him if he thinks he can just get over this kid, if he thinks he won’t always be distracted wondering what Cale would taste like, what he would feel like beneath Nate’s hands.

Without a thought, without a moment’s pause, Nate leans over the center console and wraps a hand behind Cale’s neck, dragging him forward for a kiss that’s more teeth than anything. He makes a strange noise, a gasp and a moan and a protest all rolled into one, and Nate seizes the opportunity to shove his tongue forward, pressing into Cale’s mouth with more force than is strictly necessary.

He hisses when Cale bites down and moves to pull away, but Cale twists his fingers through Nate’s hair, holding him in place, and it’s hot, so goddamn hot the way that he can keep Nate in place. “Fuck, fuck,” Nate breathes out, trying to turn in his seat for a better angle but failing when his knees knock against the cup holders.

“Stop moving so much,” Cale murmurs, tongue swiping wetly over Nate’s lips, and his hand is steadily moving down Nate’s torso, fingers carving a fiery path that has Nate’s hips hitching up, straining against nothing because he’s hard as a rock, and when did that happen?

Cale completely bypasses his straining dick though, palm curling over Nate’s thigh and wrapping behind his knee, skin fever hot even through Nate’s jeans.

“Come here,” Nate whines, and he grasps the front of Cale’s shirt, hauling him closer only to be denied by the seatbelt as it locks against the sudden force. “Fucking shit,” he swears, barely willing to take his hands off Cale long enough to release the offending belt. “Stupid fucking seatbelt. Piece of shit.”

His fingers are sweaty from nerves and adrenaline and more arousal than his body knows what to do with, and they keep slipping over the smooth plastic. Cale laughs, and Nate would be offended, but it’s such a nice sound. His hand finds Nate’s own and gently knocks it aside, pushing at the buckle to release the seatbelt.

“See, that wasn’t so hard,” he grins against Nate’s lips and bites down his jaw, teeth nipping at the tender skin beneath his ear.

“Fucking…fucking showoff,” Nate gasps, and he’s caught wanting to tip his head to the side and let Cale have full access to his neck while also needing to feel his mouth against his once more, slippery hot.

“Do you like that?”

And fuck, that’s hot. His voice is rough and low and dripping with confidence, fingers kneading at Nate’s thigh, slowly sliding higher and higher, and Nate needs to be a more active participant in this. He can’t let the rookie outdo him here.

“I’d like it if you put your hands to better use somewhere else,” he retorts, grabbing Cale’s wrist and boldly dragging his hand up until it’s pressed against his dick.

“Smooth,” Cale responds, but he doesn’t move away, just presses his palm down enough that Nate groans.

“God, that’s good,” and it shouldn’t be. It really shouldn’t be. Nate hasn’t gotten off in a car in years, not since he was an awkward fumbling teenager who didn’t have a place of his own to bring girls back to, but here he is, grinding up into the rookie’s hand and moaning like he’s never felt anything better.

Cale curls his hand into a fist and brushes his knuckles over Nate, almost teasingly, and a grin breaks over his face when Nate rocks up into it, helpless to anything else. “Can I…can I touch you?”

Nate snorts. “Aren’t you already?”

“No, I mean, yeah, but can I like actually touch you?”

There’s a fog in Nate’s brain, clouding his rational thought and keeping him from processing anything more than Cale and hot and yes, now. “Is this like a consent thing? Because, let me tell you, you have my full consent to do whatever the fuck you want so long as you don’t stop.” Nate punctuates the words with a brutal kiss, trying to show Cale how much he wants it with lips and tongue and teeth.

He jumps at the first touch and jerks back from the kiss in shock because that’s Cale’s hand on his bare dick, and when the hell did he manage that? Nate groans and thrusts into it, breath hissing through his teeth at the rough slide, and Cale lets go.

“No, wait, get back here,” Nate protests, opening his eyes enough to squint at Cale, who purses his lips and spits into his palm, and Nate swears he can feel his dick jump at the sight. “Shit, holy fucking shit,” he breathes out when Cale wraps his fingers around him once more, callused palm dragging smoothly up his heated length with the added spit. “Just like that. Just like that.”

Cale stops at the head and lets his thumb swirl around the slit, catching drops of precome and teasing Nate’s foreskin.

“Oh my god,” Nate nearly shouts when he presses down, the blunt edge of his thumbnail scraping over the tender skin and sending tremors through him. “Oh my god, yes, yes, yes,” and he knows he should be embarrassed by how vocal he’s getting, mouth running senselessly, beyond his control at the moment.

“Tell me when you’re close, yeah?” Cale says, and Nate nods, head tipped back as he rocks up, chasing the addictively good feeling of Cale’s hand on his dick, working him over far too easily. “God, you’re fucking hot.”

Nate whimpers at the words, biting back a truly humiliating moan when Cale leans forward to lick at the skin just above his shirt’s collar. “Hold up, hold up,” he says, breathy and weak, and Cale ignores him. “Seriously, hold on,” he repeats more emphatically, reaching down to slow the almost frantic pace Cale has set.

“You can come,” Cale says plainly. “You don’t need to impress me by holding out.”

Nate laughs hoarsely. He hadn’t even thought about how shockingly fast Cale had gotten him to the edge, too aroused to care about making it last. “No, I don’t—I don’t care about that,” he mumbles, tongue thick around the words. “I just…I can’t just score. I gotta assist,” he says, and that was maybe the shittiest line he’s ever used in his entire life.

Cale blinks at him owlishly before bursting into laughter, grin stretching across his cheeks and eyes scrunching in delight. “I hope that line has never actually worked for you.”

Nate tries to play it cool. “Well, did it work on you?”

Cale’s flush deepens.

“Thought so. I’m one-for-one, now.”

Cale groans, but his hand is still on Nate’s dick, so he’s counting this as a win.

“You’re totally into bad hockey references, aren’t you?” he asks, brazenly reaching out to unzip Cale’s jeans, tugging at them until his dick springs free, a wet and angry red, and he wraps his fist around it, ignoring how strange it is to have his hand on a dick that isn’t his own.

Cale shudders, eyelashes fluttering as Nate strokes over the head, smearing the precome. “Never had anyone make them before,” he stutters out, and his fingers have gone a little slack where they’re wrapped around Nate.

“Hmm, guess we’ll have to figure that out then. Do some drills.”

“Oh my god, please stop talking,” Cale says, and he drags Nate forward with his free hand, swallowing down Nate’s response as his hand picks up speed.

“Fuck,” Nate groans when Cale fondles his balls, rolling them in his palm before stroking back up. “I’m close, really close.”

“Good.” His hand is moving quicker, and the spit has dried enough that there’s a rough edge to his touch that has Nate rising to meet every downward stroke as he tries to keep his head enough to return the favor.

“Shit, shit, shit, I’m gonna—” It’s all he gets out before he’s coming, vision going hazy as an orgasm tears through him, violently quick and terribly satisfying. “Oh my god,” he mutters, mouth fumbling around the words. “That was amazing.”

“Yeah,” Cale agrees, and he sounds breathless and aroused, and when Nate looks over he’s jerking himself off, hand still wet with Nate’s come, and he’s never seen anything hotter in his life, but this just won’t do.

He flings a hand out to stop him. “No, I want,” he slurs thickly, not quite down from the high. “Let me.”

Cale doesn’t say a word, but he does let go, giving Nate the space to get a hand back on him. “Jesus fuck, Cale. You’re so hot,” he groans, unable to tear his eyes away from where the head of Cale’s dick slides through the tight circle of his fist. “I bet you’d look so good in my bed, spread out on my sheets.” It’s a hell of a thought. “God, I want that.”

“You could,” Cale gasps. “Fuck, you could.”

“Yeah?” Nate’s gaining speed now, mostly able to control his limbs after the orgasm of his life. “You’d let me do that? Lay you out on my bed and get you wet and open, ready for me.”

Cale whimpers, and he has a hand wrapped around Nate’s forearm, not trying to stop him or spur him forward, just holding him like it’s all that’s keeping him grounded. “Want that.”

“I’d give it to you. Shit, I’ll take you back to my house as soon as we’re done here and take you apart.”

Cale fingers scrabble at the smooth fabric of Nate’s jacket, slip-sliding across his forearm. “Nate, shit, yes, I want it.”

“You can have it,” Nate mutters and bends forward to bite at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, teeth sinking into the skin above his collarbone where sweat has pooled from the heat of the car and their activities. “But I want to get you off now. Then, we can take our time back at my place.”

Cale moans, and then he’s coming in thick white stripes, painting his shirt and Nate’s arm, and the sight sends a painful rush of arousal through Nate, his dick twitching uncomfortably where it’s lying flaccid between his thighs in a pool of drying come.

“Shit,” Cale murmurs, breathless and heady, and Nate has to look away. “Holy shit, that was so good.”

“Yeah,” Nate echoes, and he swears his heart’s beating loudly enough for Cale to hear.

It’s a few minutes before either speaks up.

“You good to drive?”

“What?”

“Are you good to drive back?” Cale clarifies, using the edge of his shirt to clean his hands. “I think the afterglow would be a hell of a lot better somewhere we could lie down and, you know, somewhere random people couldn’t walk past and see us.”

“Oh shit,” Nate yelps, forcibly reminded that they are sitting in a teammate’s driveway, covered in come, with their dicks out. “I can drive. I can definitely drive,” he says and tucks himself away, wiping the rest of Cale’s come onto his jeans because they’re already stained with his own, might as well add to the mess.

He jams the keys into the ignition and peels out of Colin’s driveway, foot heavy on the pedal the whole way back to his house, mind running through everything he wants to do to Cale.

They stumble to his doorstep upon arrival, and Nate barely resists the urge to pin Cale against the door and kiss him senseless, aware enough to know that would be a bad idea.

All bets are off when they’re inside though, and he presses against Cale, fits his hands around his hips, and comes in for a dirty, open-mouthed kiss.

Fingers uncoordinated and sloppy like they never are on the ice, he fumbles for the buttons on Cale’s shirt, and the damn thing frustrates him enough that he ends up reaching for the hem and dragging it over Cale’s head like it’s a t-shirt. He groans to see pale, flushed skin and ropey muscle, not hesitating to drag a hand up Cale’s ribs and over a nipple.

“Shit, Nate,” Cale moans, tossing his head against the wall when Nate bites a path down his neck. “Need—need to get yours, too.”

Nate only hums in acknowledgement, not letting up from his assault on Cale’s neck. He wants to mark him, wants to leave a trail of bites and bruises that will let everyone know not to touch him, not to think about him because he’s Nate’s. He’s Nate’s, and Nate doesn’t share.

He nibbles at the skin of Cale’s throat and tweaks a nipple, swallowing down the groan that earns him.

“Nate, let me get yours off,” Cale whines, and Nate realizes he’s tugging at the hem of his shirt, hiking it up Nate’s chest but unable to pull it off with Nate’s arms in the way.

“Let me get you off,” Nate responds nonsensically and sucks a nipple into his mouth, biting lightly at the bud and pulling back to blow on the sensitive skin.

“You can,” Cale gasps. “You totally can, but it would be so much better without all the clothes in the way.”

Nate palms a hand over Cale’s crotch. “Don’t know. Kind of like making you come all over your clothes.”

Fingers curling around Nate’s wrist, Cale pulls his hand away and ignores the protests that spill from Nate’s lips. “Where’s your bedroom?” he asks bluntly. “I’d rather this happen on a bed, and I bet you have condoms and lube in there.”

Nate’s brain short-circuits at the words. “Condoms?” he parrots airily because those are important, sure, but usually that means penetration of some kind, and what is this kid suggesting or asking for?

“Yeah, now where’s your room?”

Nate nods towards the back of the house and lets Cale take the lead, trailing behind him, lost in thought. He can’t get past the condoms and lube comment, can’t imagine what Cale wants to do with them because his brain might implode.

When they step into Nate’s bedroom, Cale doesn’t waste any time, heading for the bedside table and digging through it until he emerges with a couple condoms and a half-used bottle of lube. He tosses them onto the bed and makes his way back over to Nate, shedding his socks and shoes in route.

He stops a few feet away, looking warm and inviting in nothing but a pair of jeans and his bare feet. “You still with me?”

Nate licks his lips, tries to make his mouth from words. “Yeah, definitely. What…what do you want to do?”

“What are you comfortable with?”

“I—I don’t know. Pretty much everything. I just…you seem to already know what you want,” Nate points out, “so let’s do that, and if I don’t…if that doesn’t work, we can do something else.”

Cale offers a small smile, then steps forward and slides a hand under Nate’s shirt. “Can I take this off then?”

Nate exhales, wonders how he’s going to survive having this kid in his bed, and nods. The shirt falls to the floor, and Nate shuffles out of his shoes, feeling uncomfortably bare in just his jeans without Cale’s hands on him.

“God,” Cale sighs, stroking a hand up Nate’s side. “You look good.”

“So do you,” Nate mumbles and leans forward to get his mouth back on Cale’s, tongue tracing the seam of his lips and groaning when Cale doesn’t hesitate to let him in.

They kiss, unhurried and sure, and Nate feels like there’s a pool of lava sitting low in his belly, burning him up slowly, eating him alive from the inside out, and it’s so damn good.

Cale is a wall of muscle and heat, unlike anyone else Nate has ever taken to bed and so much better for it, and he drags him closer, pulls him in until they’re chest-to-chest and hip-to-hip, and the slide of their skin is intoxicating.

 Cale’s fingers dip below the waist of his jeans, and Nate groans.

“Can I take these off?”

“You can do whatever you want.”

Cale huffs out a laugh and undoes the belt and then button, sliding the zipper down at a torturously slow pace before hooking his fingers in the waistband and tugging them down. Nate does his best to accommodate him, shifts from foot to foot as they work the jeans over his thighs.

As soon as they hit the floor, Nate reaches out to return the favor, staring at the pale skin that is revealed with every inch. He wants to put his hands and mouth everywhere, wants to get between those legs, wants to feel the powerful muscles tighten around his waist.

Cale reaches between them and curls a hand over Nate’s hip, fingers rough with calluses, and Nate shivers at the touch. He tracks Cale’s tongue as it swipes over his lips, leaves a wet trail in its wake, and he sways forward to get a taste.

Everything is so much more without all the clothes in the way. Cale’s skin is fair, unblemished and tempting, and Nate wants to wreck him, wants to press him down into his bed and tease every sound imaginable out of him.

He can feel where Cale is pressed against his hip, hard and hot and demanding attention, and he pushes him back, keeps pressing until he tumbles onto the bed, Nate following immediately after.

He props himself up and watches the way Cale watches him back, chest heaving and irises nearly obliterated by his blown pupils, and his mouth goes dry. It’s hard to swallow, hard to get his tongue unstuck from the roof of his mouth, and he nearly chokes.

Cale raises an eyebrow and laughs, loud and vibrant, and if someone had asked Nate even a day ago if he liked when a partner laughed in bed, he would have said no, but Cale is an exception to that, seems to be an exception to a hell of a lot in Nate’s life right now.

“Don’t laugh,” Nate grouses, pinching at Cale’s side.

“Sorry, sorry,” Cale giggles.

“No, you’re not.”

The laughter fades, but Cale’s smile remains, lighting up his eyes. “No, I’m not,” he murmurs, and Nate dips down for a kiss.

He feels hyperaware of everything: the wet slide of Cale’s tongue against his, the hand that he cards firmly through Nate’s hair, the sinuous line of his body beside Nate’s. It’s perfect and overwhelming and everything Nate didn’t know he needed.

“Can you—” Cale cuts himself off, and his flush deepens.

“Can I…?” Nate asks, stroking a hand up Cale’s side.

He’s quiet for a moment, bottom lip caught between his teeth, and Nate manages to wait him out.

“Well, we have the lube and the condoms…and I just, I was wanting you to…I was wondering if we could…I was thinking we could…”

“Do you want to…”

“Yeah, if you…me…”

Nate almost swallows his tongue. “Are you sure? I mean, I’ve never…I don’t…yes, sorry, I should’ve said that first. Yes, but I don’t…have you?” He snaps his mouth closed.

“Yeah, definitely sure,” Cale responds, sounding certain and ten times more confident that Nate feels. “I’ve never, you know, I’ve never tried with anything bigger than my fingers, but I definitely want to, and if you want to…”

“Yeah, yes, absolutely yes. I want, I really want.”

“Cool,” Cale says with a breathless smile, and Nate can’t help but kiss him again and again, hands roving across all the bare skin on display.

Cale moans when Nate hooks a finger in the waist of his briefs, hips hitching up in permission, and Nate shifts until he’s over him then sits back on his heels, kneeling in the v of Cale’s legs.

“You’re gorgeous,” he blurts and can feel his cheeks flame red.

Cale’s eyes crinkle in humor. “Thanks.”

“Was that weird? That was probably weird. I’m sorry. Just, just forget it.”

“No,” Cale says, and he pokes at Nate’s thigh with a toe. “I think you should call me gorgeous again.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Cale breathes out and hooks his ankle behind Nate’s back.

“You’re gorgeous,” he repeats more confidently, and Cale grins, wide and reckless and blindingly brilliant.

“Thank you. Now, are you going to do anything about it?”

“Am I—? Hell, yeah, I am,” Nate snaps back, peeling Cale’s briefs off. “Pass me the fucking lube, and tell me how you like it.”

Cale laughs and flings a hand out, fingers sliding over the duvet until they encounter the bottle of lube. When he presses it into Nate’s palm, he lets his hand wrap around Nate’s wrist, thumb swiping over the thin inner skin of his wrist.

“You gonna get naked, too?” he asks, and Nate smirks.

“I don’t know. I’m kind of enjoying the view.”

Cale shoves at him gently, ruddy-cheeked, and grumbles, “You’re not the only one who wants a view.”

Nate scoffs but relents, stepping off the bed to shimmy out of his briefs. After, he does a quick turn, arms raised, and Cale whistles lowly. “Nice.”

“I work out.”

“I can see that.”

Finished with the impromptu show, Nate crawls back onto the bed and settles between Cale’s legs, reaching for the lube.

“So you’ve done this before, right?”

“Yeah,” and his knees drop wider. “Just start slow, okay? Don’t, don’t just go for it. Like, don’t even try and stick a full finger in at first.”

“Then what do I do?”

“Just rub over and around it, make sure there’s plenty of lube, then maybe work the tip of a finger in.”

Licking his lips nervously, Nate nods and squirts some lube onto his fingers, cringing when he squeezes too hard and ends up with a thick glob in his hand. It’s too much; he knows it’s too much but doesn’t know what to do with the extra, doesn’t know if he should wipe some off on his discarded shirt or if that’d be gross.

Stomach flexing, Cale sits up and runs his fingers over Nate’s palm, collecting almost half the lube before lying back down and wrapping his fist around himself. Nate stares, entirely too distracted by the way Cale plants his feet and thrusts up into his hand, glutes straining.

“This isn’t a show, Nate,” he says, and he shouldn’t sound so calm right now, shouldn’t be lying there with a hand around his dick and Nate between his legs and still be able to string two words together let alone a whole sentence, especially not when Nate isn’t sure he could even summon up the coordination to form a single sound. “God, just get your hands on me, okay?” Cale huffs, kicking lightly at Nate’s side, spurring him into action.

He reaches forward and remembers he’s got a palm full of lube, and he can’t just rub his whole hand against Cale’s ass and call it good. What had he said? Just rub around it? Work one finger in? Nate can do that. That’s nothing, easy.

Smearing the lube over his palm and fingers, he shuffles closer and slides his thumb below Cale’s balls and down, shivering when he catches on the tight furl of muscle. Cale moans and rocks into it.

“Just keep doing that,” he orders, and Nate doesn’t really know what he’s doing, but he keeps his thumb there, rubs it over Cale’s hole and presses gently, feeling the muscle resist. At one point, he puts enough force behind it that the tip of his thumb sinks into Cale, sliding past the tight muscle up to the first knuckle, and he wants to pull back because that was an accident and Cale had said to go slow and to work up to it and this isn’t slow, but Cale’s breath catches.

“Holy shit, yes,” he hisses, and he works his hips slowly, body sucking in more and more of Nate’s thumb as he watches, transfixed. “Fuck. Fuck, that’s good.” He’s let go of himself, has both hands clasped around his knees, pulling them back, and what a fucking sight that is. “Can you move it? Please.”

Nate shakes himself, “Yeah, yes,” and begins to slide his thumb in and out, watching the way Cale opens around him.

“You should—you should probably use your fingers instead. More to work with,” he tells him, and Nate’s never moved so fast in his life, jerking his thumb back and replacing it with a single finger, eyes wide as it breaches Cale, disappearing into the tight clasp of his body.

“Oh my god.”

“Yeah,” and Nate begins to pump his finger carefully.

Cale talks him up to another and then another, moaning through each one, head tossed back against the pillows, looking even better than Nate had imagined possible. He’s three fingers deep, has learned that if he crooks them just right he’ll graze Cale’s prostate, which makes him jump and squirm and whine beautifully, and Nate’s dick is a hard line, curving up towards his belly and leaking precome all over the duvet.

“When, uh, when is it enough?” he asks, and his thoughts are slow as molasses, thick and syrupy.

Eyes blinking open, Cale looks down at him. “What?”

“I mean, not that this isn’t great, and I could probably finger you all night, if you let me,” Cale groans, head tipping back, and his eyes flutter closed once more, “but I’d also really like to move beyond fingers before my balls literally explode.”

“Oh, yeah, shit,” Cale responds and moves quickly, curling into a seated position so fast Nate barely has time to pull his fingers out. “Here, let me,” and he fumbles for one of the condoms, tearing it open and reaching out to roll it onto Nate.

A quick burst of air hisses through Nate’s teeth at the touch, and he squeezes his eyes shut, unable to watch as Cale grabs the lube and slicks him up.

“I’m not sure how well this is going to work if you keep your eyes closed,” he comments after a moment, and it sounds fond.

Nate blinks his eyes open and briefly debates closing them again because Cale has spread himself out on his back, legs splayed so Nate can see where he’s wet and open, ready.

“Holy fuck,” Nate breathes out, tentatively laying a hand on Cale’s knee, eyes bouncing from Cale’s hole to his dick to his bitten-red lips, unable to decide what needs his attention first.

A soft smile breaks over Cale’s face. “Come here,” he says, and Nate can’t get there fast enough, can’t get his mouth against Cale’s, can’t get his hands on his body as quickly as he would like.

The kiss is hard and rough, and Nate shudders when Cale wraps a hand around him and guides him close.

“Don’t move too quickly, eh?”

Nate nods, head bobbling, and waits for Cale to take what he wants, despite how desperate he is to push into the tight heat of his body, to feel him clench around his dick after feeling him around his fingers. It’s slow going, the flared head of his dick sliding past the tight ring of muscle at a snail’s pace, accompanied by the sound of Cale’s labored breathing.

“It doesn’t hurt, does it?” he asks when they pause for a breather, barely more than the tip worked in.

“It…” Cale pauses and adjusts, “it doesn’t hurt, but it’s weird. It’s a lot more than fingers.”

“Sorry.”

“No, no, you’re good. It’s good,” but when Nate looks between them, his erection is wilting, flagging in the face of discomfort.

“Hey,” he whispers and waits until Cale is looking at him, then he leans down for a kiss, slow and sucking. He nips at his lips, tugging the bottom between his teeth until Cale moans, and he reaches between them, takes Cale in hand, and starts a steady up-and-down.

He ignores his own aching dick, ignores how good it feels to be inside Cale, how much he wants to push all the way in and grind down. Because this needs to be good for Cale, needs to be enjoyable for both of them, and Nate’s already there, but Cale isn’t.

“Oh fuck,” he groans out when Cale’s hips begin to rock gently, rising to meet Nate’s hand before dropping to pull more of Nate in. He isn’t sure how he manages not to lose it because everything is blindingly tight and warm and all-consuming, and he feels so close to the edge, right on the brink of a fantastic orgasm.

“Nate, Nate,” Cale says like he’s been unsuccessfully trying to get Nate’s attention.

“Sorry, yeah, yeah?”

The flush is back in his cheeks, and his grin is wide and beautiful. Nate feels his heart clench.

“You can move,” Cale tells him, and it takes a minute to process, his brain struggling to connect the words together in any comprehensible way.

“Oh shit,” he finally says. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” Cale murmurs, hips shifting lightly. “So sure.”

“Fuck. Fuck, yeah, okay,” Nate gasps and gets his hands planted, propping himself up so he can pull out and thrust back in in a slow, sensuous slide.

Cale whimpers and locks his legs around Nate’s waist in a vice grip, nails raising red welts on Nate’s skin as they drag across his back.

Nate’s pushing in faster now, and he thinks they’ve got the angle right because Cale keeps shuddering and shaking, shouting for Nate to stay right there, right there, and Nate’s never seen anything more perfect in his life. He bends his arms, wants to steal a kiss, but there’s suddenly pain up his arm and into his shoulder, and he loses his rhythm, hips stuttering as he grits his teeth.

“Nate, don’t stop, don’t stop,” Cale whines, hand sliding over Nate’s sweat-slick skin, and he doesn’t want to, doesn’t want to lose this moment, doesn’t want to pull out, but fuck, this hurts like a bitch and the pain is starting to edge out the pleasure, and he can feel his arousal draining away. “Nate?” Cale says, and he’s no longer whimpering, no longer pushing up to meet Nate’s thrusts. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, good, ‘m good,” Nate mutters, tries to breathe through the pain radiating from his shoulder.

“No, you’re not. What happened?” He shifts, goes to pull Nate out, and their arms bump.

Nate hisses in pain, and his eyes slam shut. Cale acts quickly, pushing at Nate’s chest until he sits back and takes the pressure off his arm.

“Shit, it’s your shoulder, isn’t it?” he asks and reaches a tentative hand out, fingers ghosting over Nate’s skin. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Shaking his head, Nate swallows down a groan. This is by far the strangest sex he’s had in his entire life: with another man—with a teammate—and now they’re sitting in Nate’s bed, completely naked, lube coating Cale’s thighs and the condom still on Nate, and Cale is delicately running his fingers over Nate’s shoulder, eyes clouded with concern.

“No, no, it’s not on you. I was in a shitty position and put my weight on it weird.”

“Do you want me to go get an ice pack or ibuprofeun or something?” and he looks so ready to do it, to forget about the sex and make sure that Nate’s okay, and that shouldn’t make something flutter in Nate’s stomach, but it does.

“Nah, I just,” he kneads at the muscle, fingers digging in. “I just shouldn’t try and do that again.”

“Yeah, yeah, for sure.”

Nate tips himself to the side and rolls onto his back. “Come here,” he says, patting at his thighs, and it’s a strange parallel to when Cale had pulled him close earlier, except Nate’s on the bottom this time and Cale is looking skeptical. “Come on, this’ll be better.”

“I’m not going to let you fuck up your shoulder.”

“And I’m not going to fuck up my shoulder. Like this, I won’t have to put any weight on it, so I won’t hurt anything.”

With a dubious look, Cale crawls into his lap and settles back on his thighs. “You better tell me if it keeps hurting.”

“I will,” Nate promises and rests his hands on Cale’s knees.

He gets a squinty-eyed glare but no further objections, and he can’t help the smile that spreads across his face when Cale leans over to grab the lube, pouring a generous amount into this hand before wrapping his fingers around Nate and stroking him back to full hardness.

He glances up at Nate, sweaty hair sticking to his forehead. “Don’t play through an injury,” he says blandly and sinks down before Nate has the chance to respond.

“Hold shit,” Nate groans, overwhelmed because Cale just sat down on his dick like it was nothing, body yielding around Nate so easily. “Shit, shit, shit.”

This time, they aren’t as careful, Cale quickly building a brutally fast rhythm that has Nate clutching at his hips, begging him to never stop, any lingering discomfort fading in the face of impending orgasm.

Cale has a hand around himself, tugging harshly as he bounces in Nate’s lap, and no, no, no. Nate slaps his hand away, replaces it with his own, watches the way Cale’s head tips back in ecstasy.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” Nate growls. “Fucking beautiful.”

Cale honest to god mewls, and his hands are braced on Nate’s chest as he works himself up and back down, looking like everything Nate never knew he needed.

“God, you take it so well, so easy. Soon as I’m healed up, we’re going to finish what we started earlier. I’ll keep you under me the whole goddamn time, make you feel so good.”

 A cry bursts out from Cale, and he clenches around Nate.

“Shit, Cale, do that again,” and he does. “Fuck, fuck, I’m close.”

“Good,” Cale bites out. “Want it. Come on, Nate,” he eggs him on, thighs and glutes flexing as he works Nate over.

“Cale, Cale, Cale, shit. Fuck, fuck!” and he’s coming, orgasm tearing through him.

He’s pretty sure he whites out for a moment because when he’s fully conscious again, Cale is bent over him, breathing hard, and there’s warm liquid on his chest, thick and sticky.

“Oh my god,” Cale mutters, and Nate can only nod in agreement.

They separate slowly, Cale sitting up and gingerly lifting himself off of Nate before slumping to the side in a boneless heap.

“Fuck, I’m dead,” and Nate understands the sentiment, is considering never moving again because that was perfect and exhausting. Cale rolls to his side and pats Nate’s chest. “Nice work,” he says around a yawn. “First star of the game.” He falls silent after that, and when Nate turns to look at him, his features have gone slack in sleep.

He takes a minute to just look, eyes tracing over the lines of his nose and cheeks, and there’s a growing sense of panic in his chest because holy fuck he just slept with Cale.

He just slept with Cale who is a man, a hockey player, his fucking teammate, and what the hell was he thinking? What the goddamn fucking hell was he thinking?

This is the new kid, the rookie wonder that impressed everyone with one of the best NHL debut’s for a defenseman maybe ever, and Nate slept with him. Nate—the older and supposed-to-be wiser teammate, the A to Gabe’s C, the face of the franchise—took him to bed and let him ride him until neither of them could think.

Fucking fuck.

He rolls out of bed, careful not to jostle Cale, and pulls off the condom, deliberately ignoring the absurd amount of come the kid was able to wring out of him because thinking about that is not going to help anything right now. What is he supposed to do? Jesus fuck. The kid’s asleep, thighs still wet with lube, dead to the world, and Nate can’t kick him out, not right now at least. He definitely will need to in the morning, send him back to the Calvert’s with a thank you but let’s never do this again because we’re the Avs’ future, and I don’t think management would be happy if they found out that we fucked.

But how does one do that nicely? He can’t be rude; that’s what got them into this whole mess in the first place. He needs help. He needs advice.

He cringes.

He needs to tell the guys because this is a problem he doesn’t think he’s strong enough to solve on his own. One crooked smile from Cale, and they’d probably end up doing it all over again.

Mind made up, Nate goes in search of his phone, snagging his pants and rifling through the pockets until he emerges triumphant, phone in hand.

**The Four Musketeers**

Nate Dogg (1:36AM)  
Guys, I slept with the rookie.  
Shit.

He fires the texts off quick and starts pacing around the room, awaiting a response.

It doesn’t come, and it doesn’t come, and fuck his friends for all heading to Vegas for Sammy’s birthday because they’re probably in some club right now, drunk and dumb and ignoring the buzzing of their phones. Fuck. FUCK.

Nate wilts at the realization that he most likely won’t be receiving a response tonight, and the exhaustion suddenly catches up to him, hard and fast and overpowering.

He can’t think about this anymore.

He’ll deal with it in the morning, he decides and crawls back into bed, ignoring the tempting heat Cale puts off and sticking to his side of the mattress.

\----

When he wakes the next morning, there’re still no notifications on his phone; the texts haven’t even been read by any of the guys. Fuck them. And fuck Sammy for having a birthday. And fuck Nate for being dumb enough to sleep with the rookie, who still happens to be in his bed, sound asleep and looking like a goddamn snack.

He’s on his stomach, one leg bent to the side, and all Nate can think about is how easy it’d be to slide between his legs and get his mouth on him. He has a nice ass, okay, round and solid and in need of a good rim job.

**The Four Musketeers**

Nate Dogg (10:13AM)  
Hey assholes, I really need you to answer.  
Seriously, this isn’t a joke.  
SOS or what the fuck ever.

Nate Dogg (10:15AM)  
I swear to god, guys. Answer.  
He’s still asleep, but he’s probably gonna wake up soon, and I’m like 63% sure that if you don’t answer before he does, we’re gonna do it again.

Nate Dogg (10:18AM)  
Make that 86%.  
Why the hell aren’t you answering?

Nate Dogg (10:20AM)  
You fucking dicks. I’m two seconds away from waking this kid up with the best rimjob of his life.  
Answer me.

Nate tries to resist. He really does, but they already slept together. It wouldn’t be that big a deal if they did it again. One more time, then he’ll drive him back to the Calvert’s and tell him it won’t happen again.

Resolved, Nate rolls onto his hands and knees and crawls across the scant space between them, dragging the sheets and blankets away to reveal a deliciously naked Cale.

He puts a reverent hand on Cale’s calf and runs it up the length of his leg, stopping at the crease where ass meets thigh, then does the same on the opposite leg. Cale stirs, restless, and Nate freezes, breath caught in his chest as he watches the muscles on Cale’s back ripple as he shifts, finds a slightly different position, and settles down again.

When it’s quiet once more, Nate bends to press a kiss to the back of each knee, a delicate, barely-there thing that sucks the air right out of him. He licks his lips and gets a taste of Cale’s skin because he’s still so close, lips only a hairsbreadth above pale, goose-pimpled flesh, and he kisses along the sinuous lines of muscle, stopping when he reaches his hands.

Cale is moving more now, shifting every few seconds, and Nate strokes his hands over the swell of his ass, thumbs flirting at the cleft before dipping in to push them apart.

“Nate?” Cale mumbles, voice thick with sleep and the first hints of arousal, and it hits Nate right in the chest.

He bends, lets his breath wash over Cale’s skin, and licks a line up his taint.

“Oh my god.”

Cale tries to push himself up, but Nate blankets himself over his legs and pins his hips, lifting a hand to press down between his shoulder blades. “Don’t move,” he husks out and brings his mouth back to Cale’s ass, tongue swirling around his hole.

“Oh shit,” Cale whimpers, and his fingers claw at the pillow, weak and uncoordinated.

God, it’s a sight. Nate has half his face buried between Cale’s cheeks, mouth and chin sloppy with spit, but he doesn’t even care about the mess because when he looks up he can see the way Cale’s shoulders tense and release, the way he presses his face into the pillows to muffle the gorgeous sounds he’s making.

Nate pulls back and gives a light slap to Cale’s ass, enjoying the way he jumps and moans obscenely. “I want to hear you. Stop trying to be quiet.”

Nodding, Cale pushes the pillow away, and he reaches up to brace his hands against the headboard, stretching into one long, sensual, perfect line, and Nate thinks he might die from this, might actually keel over because this is too much for him to handle.

He squeezes his eyes shut and mouths at Cale with renewed fervor, tongue straightening to press in, in, in, and Cale whines at the feeling, uses the little bit of leverage his hands afford to rock back against Nate’s mouth in small bursts. It’s wet and hot and perfect, and soon Cale is telling him he’s close, so fucking close.

Nate pulls back. “Could you get it up again?”

“What?” Cale squeaks, hips rocking minutely.

“I want to fuck you after this, so if you can come now and go again...”

Suddenly, Cale rolls over, spreading out on his back and stretching his legs so they bracket Nate’s hips. He raises an inquisitive eyebrow. “I could, but you’re going to have to put in some extra work in between because it’s going to take me a minute.”

Nate bends to nip at the soft skin of his inner thighs. “I told you I wouldn’t mind fingering you all night,” he murmurs and bites a path up the v of his thighs.

Cale lets out a shaky breath. “Yeah, okay, yeah.”

With a predatory grin, Nate pats his thighs. “Put your legs over my shoulders then because I’ll be down here a while.”

“Oh my god,” Cale moans and lifts a leg over Nate’s left shoulder, wrapping a hand behind his other knee.

“Hey, come on,” Nate complains, swatting at his hip. “Both of them.”

“No.” The response is quick, and it catches Nate off-guard in its insistence.

“What?”

“I’m not fucking up your shoulder. I already told you that.”

Nate huffs and pats at him again, trying to urge him to move. “It’s fine now. Good night’s rest and all that.”

“No,” Cale insists. “It’s either this or nothing.”

Goddamn this kid is stubborn. “Fine, fine, sure. This works,” Nate says and dives down to continue eating him out.

Cale slides his free hand into Nate’s hair, nails scraping over his scalp and sending delicious shivers down his spine. He doesn’t pull at Nate’s hair, doesn’t push him down, just rests his hand there, and Nate sucks at the pucker of his hole to see how he reacts, fighting a grin when Cale jerks beneath him.

“Fuck, keep doing that,” Cale pleads, and his hand disappears from Nate’s hair, a most unwelcome development.

When Nate opens his eyes to glare at Cale though, he gets a phenomenal view of him stroking himself, one hand wrapped around his dick, the other still holding his knee up, and well, that’s not so bad. He can see the muscles of Cale’s stomach flexing, can see the light sheen of sweat that has broken out, making his skin look slick and warm.

Nate loops his good arm around Cale’s thigh and gets his hand on him, too, doing his best to follow the movements. He can feel the spit dripping down his chin, and his jaw is beginning to ache from the constant stretch and repetitive motions, but he can tell Cale’s close, knows from the way his hand loses its rhythm and his thighs flex sporadically that he’s right on the edge.

He pushes his face further into the cleft of Cale’s ass and spears his tongue in as deep as it’ll go, sucking at the pink, puffy skin, and Cale loses it, letting out a long, broken moan and arching off the bed.

Nate pulls back to watch, wants to see the splatter of come across Cale’s flushed and heaving chest, the visceral proof of how great he made him feel, and they’ve already come this far, so when Nate wonders what the sweat and come would taste like, he bends forward and licks a stripe up Cale’s stomach.

The taste isn’t bad, not much different from his own, but it’s so much better because of the way Cale gasps and presses into it, the way he lifts a hand to Nate’s head like he doesn’t want him to stop. Nate hums and swirls his tongue over the skin, outlining the faint hint of ribs and the softening lines of muscle that speak of a long, hard season and a good run in the playoffs.

Cale’s fingers are back in his hair, and when he tugs gently, Nate follows, pushing himself up until they’re face to face and easily falling into the kiss that Cale initiates.

He loses himself to it, feels everything around them fade into the background until it’s just him and Cale and the easy glide of their lips. Cale’s hands are in his hair and stroking down his back and running up his sides, leaving goosebumps in their wake, and his foot slides up Nate’s calf as his legs shift to accommodate the lazy sprawl of Nate’s body.

They break apart, both breathing heavy, and Nate doesn’t know how long it’s been. His room is brighter than before, the sun not just risen but most likely high in the sky.

Whatever, it’s the offseason; they don’t need to be out of bed yet.

“If we start prep now, I should be good to go pretty soon,” Cale tells him, and there’s nothing sexy about how he says it, upfront and matter-of-fact, but Nate still feels his mouth go impossibly dry.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I mean, it’s been like half an hour…at least.”

“Oh shit, yeah, okay.” Nate sits back and looks around himself for the lube, hands searching uselessly in the mess of his covers.

“I think it fell last night,” Cale says, and when Nate looks over the end of the bed, it’s lying on the ground, half opened and incriminating beside their jeans. Nate chooses not to think about that.

He snatches it up and squeezes a reasonable amount onto his hand. “Like last night?” he asks, reaching out to press a finger against Cale’s hole, where it’s looking red and abused and beautiful.

“Probably won’t take as long. I’m loose enough you could start with a finger or two.”

Eyebrows raising, Nate pushes against his rim and tries not to moan too loudly when his finger slides right in, all the way down to the third knuckle. He pulls out and presses back in, enchanted by the way Cale’s body seems to suck him in, yielding around the intrusion more easily than he had the night before.

On the next thrust, he adds a second finger, slides it along the first, and Cale groans, hips tilting in search of that perfect angle.

Nate soon adds a third and begins to scissor them apart, intent as he watches Cale’s body adjust to the wider stretch.

Several minutes later, Cale reaches down and stops him. “I think that’s good.”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Nate mumbles, cheeks pinking because he’s almost positive he could finger Cale for another hour and not get bored, caught up in the heat of him around his fingers and in the choked-off moans he releases when Nate presses at his prostate.

Cale pats the bed beside him, and Nate’s mouth turns down. “I want to do some of the work this time,” he complains, and he isn’t sure if it’s the arousal or his wounded pride speaking.

Snorting, Cale rolls his eyes. “Good, now get over here,” and Nate’s never been the best at saying no.

When he finally complies, Cale rolls onto his side and shuffles back until Nate can feel him all along the front of his body.

“This way we’ll split the work,” Cale informs him and passes Nate the lube, hitching one knee up to give Nate better access.

Grinning, Nate retrieves a condom from the nightstand, rolls it on, and slicks himself up. Then, he guides himself into Cale, slowly as he can, aware of every twitch and sigh Cale lets out. When he’s fully seated in him, it’s a hell of a lot more intimate than he’d expected. They’re pressed together from head to toe, and Nate has to hook an arm over Cale’s waist because he doesn’t know what else to do with it.

Cale gently rocks forward then back, barely putting any distance between them, and Nate follows his lead, rolling to meet each thrust. They don’t have a ton of leverage, and eventually, they settle into more of grind, Nate circling his hips and Cale clenching around him rhythmically, and it’s just as good as it was last night.

Dragging a hand up Cale’s chest, Nate cradles his jaw and turns his head for a series of slow, drugging kisses, each fading into the next with barely a breath in between. His lips trail over Cale’s jaw and down his neck, and when he sets his teeth into the meat of his shoulder, he can feel Cale’s breath catch.

“Keep it under the collar, yeah?” he says, and Nate groans roughly, sinking his teeth in and sucking at the skin. “Shit,” Cale hisses, and Nate laps at the red skin, runs a soothing hand over Cale’s flank.

“God, wish I could leave marks all over you,” he growls, and Cale shivers. “On your neck, your pretty thighs, your perfect ass.”

Whimpering, Cale grabs his hand and drags it down to where he’s painfully hard, red and leaking precome, and Nate indulges him, wraps him in a tight fist and begins to pump slowly, still tonguing at what is sure to be a massive, bruising hickey.

“God, Cale, it’s so good. You’re so good.”

Cale moans and reaches up to hook a hand around the back of Nate’s neck, locking him in place. “Come on. Want you to come first,” he whispers, grinding back into Nate as he tightens around him.

“Fuck, yeah, just like that. I’m so close.”

Cale’s grin is wicked and sharp, and Nate wants to bite at the crooked lips, wants to taste that smile, even though he knows that’s impossible.

“Come on, Nate,” Cale murmurs, and the words are innocuous enough, but the tone is a filthy challenge, and it sends Nate right over the edge.

“Cale,” he groans and gives a few nearly-useless pumps of his fist, but Cale must’ve been close too because that’s all it takes to bring him down, too.

There’s come and lube everywhere. Nate can feel it on his hand and the fronts of his thighs, is almost certain there’s more on the bedspread than he’d normally be okay with, but he finds he doesn’t actually give a shit because Cale is warm and pliant in his arms, and he never wants him to leave.

He never wants him to leave.

“Do you have anywhere you need to be today?” he asks, and Cale blinks his eyes open, the pale blue a stark contrast to his ruddy cheeks.

“I have lunch with my family at one,” he answers, shifting forward until Nate slips out and then stretching languorously. It’s highly distracting. “They’re flying out later, and I probably won’t be going home for at least a month, so I want to hang out with them while I can.”

Nate hums, “You planning to Uber them to the airport?” and Cale blushes.

“Well, it’s not like I magically acquired a car since last night, so yes.”

“You can take mine.” It slips right out, falls from his lips with little effort, and he can’t believe he just said that. His car is his baby, his pride and joy. People can ride in it sure, but they can’t drive it.

“Are you sure?”

No. “Yeah, absolutely. I was just planning on hanging out here anyways, so it’s not like it’s a big deal.”

“Oh,” Cale says, and it’s soft and quiet and shocked. Then, his face breaks into a grin. “That’d be great. You really don’t mind? We’ll probably be out for a couple hours.”

“Yeah, it’s chill. I’ve got some shows I need to catch up on.”

“Awesome,” Cale murmurs, pressing a kiss to the corner of Nate’s jaw. He flops back onto the bed and rolls over onto his stomach. “Oh shit.”

Nate immediately thinks the worst. “What? What? Are you okay? You’re not hurt, are you?”

“No,” Cale answers, and he scrambles to his feet. “But I’ve got like forty-five minutes before I need to be at the restaurant. Shit,” he hisses, looking frantic, “I need a shower and clothes and, oh fuck, my shirt. My shirt has fucking come on it!”

“I have a shower,” Nate points out, “and you can borrow a shirt. It might be a little big on you, but not that much.”

Cale’s eyes do that thing again, where they get wide and surprised, and Nate finds he doesn’t really like it, prefers Cale’s smiles instead. “You sure?”

Snorting, Nate stands and rolls his shoulder out as discreetly as he can. Cale gives him a side eye that he ignores. “Come on,” he says with a nod toward the bathroom.

“Does it hurt?” Cale asks, trailing after Nate, watching him peel off the condom and step into the shower. He comes easily when Nate holds out a hand in invitation.

“Not any more than it did yesterday. Couple weeks of PT, and I’ll be good.”

Cale gives him a dubious look, but Nate flips the water on, letting it crash over them, steaming hot and terribly distracting where it runs in rivulets down Cale’s body.

“It was a pretty nasty crash though.”

“It was a pretty dumb crash,” Nate corrects bitterly, still upset with himself for letting the stress and pressure get the better of him.

Cale frowns but doesn’t comment on it, grabbing the shampoo and scrubbing at his hair instead.

They bathe in near silence, shifting around each other with gentles nudges to get under the showerhead or to grab the soap, and it feels easy, easy and familiar.

When the suds have washed down the drain, Nate can’t help but press Cale against the tile and kiss him over and over and over because he belongs in Nate’s shower and in his bed and in his car, and he deserves to know that, and Nate has always been more about the doing than the saying.

“Hey,” Cale says when Nate’s hands begin to travel a little too far south. “I really do need to leave soon.”

“Do you want to come back over afterwards?” he asks, and he could kick himself because that is not the question he should’ve been asking. That won’t help any of this. That would make it worse, so much worse, because if Cale came back over there’s no way in hell Nate wouldn’t do it all over again.

That funny look is back on Cale’s face, like he’s trying to figure something out but can’t quite get there. “Yeah, for sure,” he says. “I’ll probably run by Matt’s before I do just to check in with them.”

Ah yes, how could Nate forget? Cale is also living with one of their teammates, and he has no idea what he told them—if he had even let them know he wasn’t coming home last night, which, knowing Cale, he would have. Maybe he’d sent them a text or something when Nate was too distracted during the drive back to his house. Fuck.

“That’s chill. I’ll be here all day, so come over whenever.”

“Cool,” Cale murmurs, and Nate wants to kiss him again.

He turns to shut off the water instead and reaches for one of the towels to offer Cale, who murmurs a quiet thank you. They dry off in silence.

They don’t talk about it as they dress, don’t talk about it when Nate hands him the key to his car, don’t talk about when Cale steps forward and presses a small kiss to the corner of Nate’s mouth. “I should be back in a few hours,” he says, and Nate feels fucking domestic, watching Cale walk outside, waving from the front stoop.

He’s an idiot. He’s an absolute idiot, and he knows that, has done enough dumb shit to realize that, but this might be the worst of all.

He slept with the rookie, slept with him multiple times. Then, still high off a stupid-good orgasm, he offered to let him drive his car and asked him to come back once his family had left, and Jesus fuck, he can’t think about this right now, doesn’t want to think about any of it.

Heading towards the kitchen, he resolves to make himself lunch and zone out from life with a little Game of Thrones because Sid got him hooked a couple summers ago.

It’s not until he’s four episodes in and he can’t remember how two of the characters are related (cousins? long-lost siblings? former lovers?) that he realizes he doesn’t have his phone, and it’s only when he goes to grab it, sees it flashing with notifications, that he remembers the texts.

He unlocks it and begins to scroll through the messages, cringing heavily.

**The Four Musketeers**

TBeauts (11:12AM)  
Nathan MacKinnon, you fucking animal.  
Was it good?

Gabe the Babe (11:15AM)  
What the fuck.  
You’re joking right?

Horse Girl (11:16AM)  
You know, if we hadn’t already agreed that this text would be fine-free, I would get you so hard for telling us what you’re doing with your sexual partners.

Gabe the Babe (11:16AM)  
This is a joke, isn’t it?  
Nathan.  
Answer us.

TBeauts (11:17AM)  
Can’t. He’s too busy rimming the rookie.

Gabe the Babe (11:18AM)  
This isn’t funny, Tyson.  
Don’t make jokes. Those are our teammates.

Horse Girl (11:19AM)  
Yeah, but they’re definitely swinging for the other team right now, eh? (winking emoji)

TBeauts (11:20AM)  
Is that the real reason you shaved?  
Didn’t want to give the poor kid any beard burn?

Gabe the Babe (11:21AM)  
What the fuck, Tys.  
You can’t just ask stuff like that.

Horse Girl (11:21AM)  
I don’t know. He makes a good point.  
Nate’s been hot for the rookie since that first goal.  
He’s probably been planning how to get in his pants from day one.

TBeauts (11:22AM)  
#cradlerobber (baby emoji)

Gabe the Babe (11:22AM)  
Stop making jokes, you assholes.  
This is serious.  
Anyways, the rookie isn’t a real rookie. He was drafted two years ago; he’s just been at university.

TBeauts (11:24AM)  
Good, so he’s definitely legal.

Horse Girl (11:25AM)  
Yeah, but he still looks young.  
Hey.  
Maybe that’s a thing for Nate.  
That jailbait, tho. (prison cell emoji)

Gabe the Babe (11:27AM)  
Shut the fuck up.  
Neither of you are helping anything, and Nate isn’t answering anyways.  
There’s nothing we can do until he texts back.

TBeauts (11:29AM)  
That’ll probably be a while.  
Nate likes to take his time.

Horse Girl (11:30AM)  
How do you know that…

TBeauts (11:31AM)  
Some of us are mature adults who can talk about what we like doing in bed without acting like five year-olds.

Horse Girl (11:33AM)  
Who are you talking about?  
Because you’re definitely not talking about yourself.

TBeauts (11:34AM)  
Oooooo, sick burn.

Gabe the Babe (11:34AM)  
I’m going back to sleep.

Nate cringes more and more with each text, wondering how the hell he ended up with the least helpful friends in the world.

Nate Dogg (4:42PM)  
You all suck.

Horse Girl (4:45PM)  
Not as much as you do, Nateyboy.  
Or should I say…  
Naughty boy?

Nate Dogg (4:46PM)  
You’re a dick.

Horse Girl (4:46PM)  
But apparently you like that dick.

Gabe the Babe (4:47PM)  
EJ, stop.  
The time for jokes has passed.  
Nate sent out an SOS text this morning, and we failed in our duties as brothers to respond to that.  
We are now in damage control, so don’t be stupid.

Horse Girl (4:49PM)  
Fuck you  
…but you’re right.  
SOS texts are more important than jokes.  
I am prepared to offer my service to help a brother out.  
But not like the rookie helped you out. That’s not my thing.

Nate Dogg (4:52PM)  
Fuck off. Wouldn’t want you anyways.

TBeauts (4:53PM)  
No, but you apparently want the rookie.

Horse Girl (4:55PM)  
What? Nothing to say for yourself, Nathan?

Gabe the Babe (4:55PM)  
Nate? You good?

TBeauts (4:57PM)  
Oh shit.  
OH SHIT.  
You do have a thing for the rookie, don’t you?

Horse Girl (4:58PM)  
Called it.

TBeauts (4:58PM)  
Omfg. What the fuck.  
EJ was right.  
Holy fucking fuck.  
Dude.  
Duuuuuuuuude.

Gabe the Babe (4:59PM)  
Nathan, is this true?

TBeauts (4:59PM)  
The rookie? Cale? Our vegetable friend?  
What the fuck, man?????

Horse Girl (5:00PM)  
What is it?  
The hockey skills?  
The college education?

TBeauts (5:01PM)  
The young looks.

Horse Girl (5:01PM)  
THE YOUNG LOOKS.

Nate Dogg (5:02PM)  
Shut up.

TBeauts (5:03PM)  
Dude, I’m dying over here.  
Just tell us what’s up.

Gabe the Babe (5:04PM)  
We are here for you, Nate.  
No matter what.

Horse Girl (5:08PM)  
Nate?

TBeauts (5:09PM)  
Nathan Raymond MacKinnon.

Nate Dogg (5:10PM)  
No fines, right?

Gabe the Babe (5:11PM)  
Of course not.  
That’s like the cardinal rule of this chat.

TBeauts (5:12PM)  
No way.  
No fines.  
Not about this.

Horse Girl (5:13PM)  
The sacred pact of the Four Musketeers forbids fines, Nathan.  
That will not change today.

Nate Dogg (5:15PM)  
Okay.

TBeauts (5:17PM)  
Alright.  
Well, this is going nowhere.  
How about we start with some questions.

Horse Girl (5:18PM)  
Yeah!  
Like how good is the rookie in bed?

Gabe the Babe (5:19PM)  
Yes, like how is Cale doing right now?

Horse Girl (5:20PM)  
Top ten?  
Have you even slept with ten other men?

Gabe the Babe (5:20PM)  
Has he said anything to you about it?

Horse Girl (5:21PM)  
Or even ten other people?

TBeauts (5:21PM)  
Shut up.  
You don’t need to answer those, Nate.

Gabe the Babe (5:22PM)  
No, you need to answer mine.  
Captain’s orders.

Horse Girl (5:23PM)  
You can’t pull rank here!

TBeauts (5:23PM)  
Yeah, no fair!  
No one is captain here.  
We’re all on the same level.

Gabe the Babe (5:24PM)  
Right, yes.  
Sorry.  
Would you please answer my questions though?  
They’re important.

TBeauts (5:25PM)  
I’ll give him that.

Horse Girl (5:25PM)  
…fair enough.

Nate Dogg (5:28PM)  
He’s good.  
He went to lunch with his parents and is dropping them off at the airport.

Gabe the Babe (5:29PM)  
Dropping them off???  
Did he take an Uber with them or something?

TBeauts (5:30PM)  
(laughing crying emoji) Kid needs a car.

Nate Dogg (5:31PM)  
…he’s using mine.

Horse Girl (5:32PM)  
What the

Gabe the Babe (5:32PM)  
Yours????

TBeauts (5:32PM)  
What kind of bullshit is this???  
Your car?

Horse Girl (5:33PM)  
You gonna get him a ring next? (diamond ring emoji)

Gabe the Babe (5:33PM)  
That was very generous of you.

TBeauts (5:34PM)  
You fucking asshole.  
You don’t even like letting me drive your car.  
What the hell, man?  
What the fucking hell.

Nate Dogg (5:35PM)  
He was sad about saying goodbye to his family.  
And I get that, so I let him take my car to drop them off.

Horse Girl (5:36PM)  
Does this mean you’re going steady?

Nate Dogg (5:36PM)  
Fuck off.

TBeauts (5:37PM)  
NATHAN.  
You let this child drive your car.  
The new kid.  
Who you haven’t even known for more than a few weeks.

Gabe the Babe (5:38PM)  
That is a pretty generous offer.

TBeauts (5:38PM)  
You let HIM drive your car??  
What the fuck?  
What happened to friendship, man?

Horse Girl (5:39PM)  
Does bros before hos apply in this situation?  
I mean, technically, Cale is one of our bros.  
So that kind of makes this hard.

TBeauts (5:40PM)  
He’s not Nate’s bro.

Nate Dogg (5:41PM)  
I hate all of you.

TBeauts (5:41PM)  
Feeling’s mutual, buddy. (hand emoji)

Gabe the Babe (5:42PM)  
Okay, so you lent him your car.  
Good to know you trust him.

TBeauts (5:43PM)  
More than us apparently.

Nate Dogg (5:44PM)  
What was I supposed to do??  
We’d literally just had sex.  
Like the sweat was still drying  
And I hadn’t even taken the condom off.

Horse Girl (5:45PM)  
Of course you’re a top.

Nate Dogg (5:45PM)  
And you’re an asshole.

TBeauts (5:46PM)  
So what?  
It was so good you couldn’t think straight?  
Or does this kid already have you wrapped around his fingers????  
I swear  
If you’re already whipped af, I will laugh in your face  
Then kill you for falling in love without telling me.

Nate Dogg (5:47PM)  
????  
It was one night.

Horse Girl (5:47PM)  
And a morning.

Nate Dogg (5:48PM)  
You really shouldn’t be throwing the L word around like that.  
Yes, thank you, EJ.

Gabe the Babe (5:49PM)  
You have to admit though, it’s pretty crazy that you let him borrow your car.  
What are you going to do next?  
Ask him to move in with you?

Nate Dogg (5:50PM)  
No!  
He already moved in with Matt.  
You know that.

TBeauts (5:50PM)  
Oh fuck.  
But you would totally make the offer if he didn’t already have a place, wouldn’t you?  
Dude.  
This is bad.  
This is so bad.

Horse Girl (5:51PM)  
Should’ve tapped that sooner.

Gabe the Babe (5:51PM)  
Would you really offer him a place to stay?

TBeauts (5:52PM)  
Don’t make it sound so nice.  
He’d be giving the kid a spot in his bed.

Nate Dogg (5:52PM)  
Shut up.  
I would not.  
Well, probably not.

Horse Girl (5:53PM)  
Damn, you’re whipped.

Nate Dogg (5:53PM)  
Am not!

TBeauts (5:54PM)  
Oh my god.  
You sound like a child right now. (baby face emoji)  
Don’t be an infant, Nathan.

Horse Girl (5:54PM)  
Yes, there’s enough children on this team already.  
Like Cale.

Nate Dogg (5:55PM)  
Stop.

Gabe the Babe (5:57PM)  
Okay, so you’ve let him borrow your car, and you would invite him to MOVE IN WITH YOU if he needed.  
You have also had sex with him…TWICE.

Nate Dogg (5:58PM)  
It was definitely more than that.

Gabe the Babe (5:58PM)  
I think you should think about  
What.

TBeauts (5:58PM)  
WHAT.

Horse Girl (5:59PM)  
You dog.

TBeauts (5:59PM)  
More than that?  
What?  
Have you just been having marathon sex since last night?

Horse Girl (6:00PM)  
Get it. Get it. Get it.

Gabe the Babe (6:00PM)  
Aren’t you hurt?

Nate Dogg (6:01PM)  
We did sleep for a while, and he had to leave to go see his family.  
We worked around the injury.

TBeauts (6:02PM)  
What the fuck, man.  
How was the kid even able to get out of bed?

Horse Girl (6:02PM)  
( _shook me all night long_  gif)

TBeauts (6:03PM)  
Good grief.

Gabe the Babe (6:03PM)  
So back on track.  
You seem to be moving very quickly.

Horse Girl (6:04PM)  
Like lightning.

Nate Dogg (6:04PM)  
We’re not dating.

TBeauts (6:04PM)  
No, you just spent the last 24 hours having tons of sex.

Horse Girl (6:05PM)  
And you let him borrow your car.

Gabe the Babe (6:05PM)  
And you want to give him a permanent place in your bed.

Nate Dogg (6:06PM)  
We’re not dating.

TBeauts (6:06PM)  
No, but you wouldn’t mind living with him apparently, and that’s way more than dating.

Nate Dogg (6:07PM)  
What?  
People can live together without being together.

Horse Girl (6:07PM)  
Oh my god.  
You want to be friends with benefits?

Gabe the Babe (6:08PM)  
Bad idea.  
BAD IDEA.  
Please don’t do that.

TBeauts (6:08PM)  
Easy access.

Gabe the Babe (6:09PM)  
Not with a teammate.  
Not with anyone.

Horse Girl (6:09PM)  
Damn, you’re doing it wrong though.  
The side chick doesn’t get to borrow your car.

Nate Dogg (6:10PM)  
We’re not gonna be friends with benefits!

TBeauts (6:11PM)  
Ass on tap.

Gabe the Babe (6:11PM)  
…  
How long did that take you?

Horse Girl (6:12PM)  
Wow, Barrie.

Nate Dogg (6:12PM)  
Stop.  
We’re not dating.  
We’re not gonna be friends with benefits.  
We’re not doing any of that.

TBeauts (6:13PM)  
So was this a one and done thing?  
Hit it and quit it?

Gabe the Babe (6:13PM)  
If that is your plan, you’d really better handle this right.

Horse Girl (6:14PM)  
You’re just gonna drop him???

Gabe the Babe (6:14PM)  
He is our teammate.  
He has a contract.  
You have a contract.  
Don’t be shitty about this.

TBeauts (6:15PM)  
Wait.

Horse Girl (6:16PM)  
What?

Gabe the Babe (6:17PM)  
Tys?

Horse Girl (6:18PM)  
Bro?

TBeauts (6:18PM)  
You’re trying to sit here and tell us that you spent the majority of the past day having really great sex with our new rookie-not-rookie. So good, that when you woke up with him this morning, you did it again. And again and again.

Nate Dogg (6:19PM)  
Hold on.

TBeauts (6:19PM)  
No, wait.

Horse Girl (6:21PM)  
You writing a novel over there?

TBeauts (6:22PM)  
Then after who knows how many rounds of crazy wild sex, you talked to him and realized he was so sad about his parents heading back up north that you decided to offer him your car to use for the day so he could take them to the airport himself?

Nate Dogg (6:23PM)  
That’s called being a good person.

TBeauts (6:23PM)  
Wait.

TBeauts (6:27PM)  
And somewhere in all of that, you also realized that you wouldn’t mind inviting him to live with you? You, who never lets anyone besides your parents and sister stay at your house, would offer this kid a place to stay if he needed it?

TBeauts (6:28PM)  
Hell yeah, you’re not going to be friends with benefits.

Horse Girl (6:28PM)  
Tell him, Tys!

Nate Dogg (6:29PM)  
It’s not like that.

TBeauts (6:30PM)  
And hell yeah, you’re not dating this kid.  
Dude.  
You’re pretty much married.  
Or engaged, I guess, since he hasn’t moved in.  
Yet.

Gabe the Babe (6:31PM)  
That feels a bit dramatic.

Horse Girl (6:31PM)  
No, no.  
That’s good.  
The past couple weeks have been the courtship.  
Last night was the celebratory sex because they’re going to spend the rest of their lives together.

TBeauts (6:33PM)  
YES.

Horse Girl (6:33PM)  
Now, Nate’s trying to figure out how to get him to move in, so they can be old marrieds together.

Nate Dogg (6:34PM)  
This is ridiculous.

TBeauts (6:34PM)  
Yes, it is.

Nate Dogg (6:35PM)  
He’s not moving in.

TBeauts (6:36PM)  
You didn’t even tell me you were going to propose!!! (crying emoji)

Gabe the Babe (6:36PM)  
Normally, I would never agree with EJ.  
But that’s sound logic.

Nate Dogg (6:37PM)  
Wtf.  
We’re not engaged or any shit like that.

Horse Girl (6:38PM)  
But you want to be.

TBeauts (6:38PM)  
Yasssss.

Nate Dogg (6:39PM)  
No.

Gabe the Babe (6:39PM)  
You do have to admit though  
You treat Cale very differently than any other rookie  
Or anyone else on the team.

TBeauts (6:40PM)  
Or anyone else in your life!

Nate Dogg (6:40PM)  
No.

Horse Girl (6:41PM)  
Methinks the lady doth protest too much.

Nate Dogg (6:41PM)  
Fuck off with that Shakespeare shit.

Gabe the Babe (6:42PM)  
Ah, you know Shakespeare?  
Did you learn that to impress your college educated fiancé?

TBeauts (6:43PM)  
Don’t fake smart, Nate.  
He’ll figure you out real quick.

Nate Dogg (6:43PM)  
Fuck off.  
I’m plenty smart.

Horse Girl (6:44PM)  
Kerf could probably tutor you.  
He went to Harvard.

Nate Dogg (6:45PM)  
I don’t need a tutor.  
I’m perfectly smart on my own.  
And I’m not trying to impress anyone.

TBeauts (6:46PM)  
Yeah, I mean he already got in his pants.

Gabe the Babe (6:46PM)  
I can teach you everything you need to know about wooing!

Horse Girl (6:47PM)  
Sunset horseback ride in the mountains!  
True romance.

TBeauts (6:47PM)  
Then DQ for dessert!

Gabe the Babe (6:48PM)  
Then home for second dessert! (winking emoji)

The doorbell rings, and Nate barely contains his sigh of relief, carelessly tossing his phone onto the counter as he stands. His arm is still stiff, and he rolls it out as he walks towards the door, trying not to overthink everything the guys had told him.

When he opens it, he feels like he’s been transported into some stupid romcom that only EJ would watch because Cale is standing on the other side in Nate’s shirt with a massive hickey just barely visible under the collar. He’s grinning and flushed, cheeks as red as always, and Nate can’t help but think about how much more red they can be after enough exertion. His throat feels dry, and he swallows several times before he feels like he can form words again.

“Do you want to go on a date?” That…was not at all what he wanted to say, but he can’t take it back—finds he doesn’t want to take it back—when Cale’s face lights up, smile widening and eyes shining.

“Yeah, definitely.”

Nate swallows again. “Is…uh, is now good?”

“Sure.”

“Cool, good, yeah, that’s good.”

Cale’s brow furrows, and it really shouldn’t be cute, but it is. “Do you want to go grab some shoes? Or are you planning on going someplace we can be barefoot?”

Nate blinks once, twice, before his brain comes back online. “Shoes, yeah,” he laughs, weak and breathy, “I need those. You just, you wait here,” he says, then shuts the door, then throws himself forward to reopen it because there’s no reason for Cale to wait outside. “Sorry, sorry. You can wait in here. That was rude of me. Come in.”

Cale steps into the entry, and Nate is tempted to drag him closer and kiss him, wet and dirty, but that would be counterproductive to his apparently newfound goal to take him out on a date.

He reels back. “Just a minute. I’ll be right back. It won’t take long.”

“Okay,” Cale responds with a soft smile, and Nate scrambles towards his bedroom before he jumps the kid in his own entry.

What the fuck is he doing? What the actual fuck? He had told the guys this wouldn’t be a thing, had denied everything they said about them, yet here he is, getting ready to take Cale on a date. And how does a date with another guy even work? Do the same rules that apply to girls apply here? That had worked pretty well last night and that morning, but is a date supposed to be different? Will Cale want him to be all chivalrous, opening doors and pulling out chairs? Would that be weird? That would definitely be weird.

Nate stumbles over a pair of pants, nearly faceplanting on his carpet, and he flushes when he realizes they’re his own from last night, belt still in the loops because neither could be bothered to take it all the way off.

Holy shit, they had sex last night. They had so much sex, so so much, and  _now_  Nate is asking him on a date. Shit, shit, shit. He averts his gaze from the discarded clothes and hurries back to the door, shoes untied on his feet, hoping he doesn’t look as flustered and confused as he feels.

“I’ll drive,” Cale says easily, and that shouldn’t make Nate feel calm. He doesn’t like people driving his car, never lets anyone do it, but Cale is apparently the exception because he just nods and follows him outside, locking the door behind them and realizing he needs to figure out what the hell they’re even doing for their date.

\----

Nate doesn’t mean to take him on a date that night, and he doesn’t mean to sleep with him afterwards.

He also doesn’t mean to start dragging him to the rink to workout every morning while he does PT or to cozy up next to him on the couch in the afternoon, TV playing in the background as they trade slow kisses or nap. He doesn’t mean to take him to basketball games or out to dinner most nights and doesn’t mean to bring him home afterwards for mind-blowingly good sex. It just happens, and everything else sort of fades into the background, irrelevant and unimportant.

From TBeauts (10:57AM)  
Answer your fucking texts, asshole.

From TBeauts (11:41AM)  
Seriously, you fucker.

Nate feels a pit of dread open up in his stomach.

There’re no emojis, no stupid text language, no exclamation points, none of the things that Tyson would usually use in a text to his best friend. It’s all business, stark black letters on a gray background, and Nate can admit that he hasn’t been the best at texting over the last couple weeks, has been more worried about car shopping with Cale and making out on the couch than getting chirped by his friends, and he feels like he’s about to pay for that.

**The Four Musketeers**

Gabe the Babe (10:26AM)  
I get back in town tomorrow.  
You guys up for dinner or something?

Horse Girl (10:28AM)  
YES.  
I’m pretty sure I’m about to go crazy being stuck at my house all day.

TBeauts (10:31AM)  
I’m down.  
I think I may almost be missing your ugly face, Gabe.

Horse Girl (10:32AM)  
^^^  
Hate to agree with Tys, but samesies.

Gabe the Babe (10:34AM)  
Of course you’ve missed my face.  
It’s beautiful and irreplaceable.  
Does barbeque sound good? (grill emoji)

TBeauts (10:35AM)  
Oh hell yeah. (thumbs up)  
I’ll bring the chips.

Horse Girl (10:35AM)  
I’ll bring the beer.  
Nate can bring his new life partner.

Gabe the Babe (10:36AM)  
???? (surprised emoji)  
What??  
WHAT  
You’re not talking about Cale are you?  
ARE YOU??

TBeauts (10:37AM)  
Seriously?

Gabe the Babe (10:37AM)  
What the fuck? What.

Horse Girl (10:37AM)  
Yeah, they’re in the gross fiancé phase now, but they’ve come over a couple times to hang out, and it’s been good.  
Hella weird to see them together though.

Gabe the Babe (10:38AM)  
What the fucking fuck?

TBeauts (10:38AM)  
(side eye emoji)  
You’ve hung out with them??

Gabe the Babe (10:39AM)  
Nate hasn’t answered any of my texts!!!  
That fucker.

Horse Girl (10:40AM)  
Only a few times!

TBeauts (10:40AM)  
He hasn’t answered me either!!  
That bitch.

Horse Girl (10:41AM)  
To be fair, you’ve both been out of town.

Gabe the Babe (10:41AM)  
That’s not an excuse!

TBeauts (10:42AM)  
Nope.  
And I got back last night!

Horse Girl (10:42AM)  
He’s all in love or whatever. (heart eyes emoji)  
He doesn’t have time for you.

TBeauts (10:43AM)  
We’re his best bros.  
He has to have time for us.

Gabe the Babe (10:44AM)  
Hold up.  
EJ, are you serious?  
Is Nate really into the rookie?

Horse Girl (10:45AM)  
Dead serious.  
Kid’s at Nate’s house more than the Calvert’s.

TBeauts (10:45AM)  
(shocked emoji)  
Fucking what?

Gabe the Babe (10:46AM)  
Seriously???

Horse Girl (10:46AM)  
Yeah, and I think Nate’s been helping him find a car.

TBeauts (10:47AM)  
What the fuck has happened to my best friend?

Gabe the Babe (10:47AM)  
So are they dating?  
Is this a thing??

Horse Girl (10:48AM)  
I don’t know.  
I tried to ask Nate about it the first time they came over  
But he just kind of brushed it off.

TBeauts (10:48AM)  
Fucking hell.

Gabe the Babe (10:49AM)  
Nate, you coming?

Horse Girl (10:51AM)  
Think he might be busy. (big smile emoji)

TBeauts (10:52AM)  
That’s disgusting.

There’s bile rising in Nate’s throat, hot and painful, and this is so bad. This is worse than flaming out in the playoffs, worse than not even qualifying, worse than anything he can imagine.

The last few weeks have been easy because Nate has just gone along with it, hasn’t wondered what it means when his stomach flutters each time Cale smiles, hasn’t tried to figure out why he likes it when they fuck face to face so he can see each sigh and strain painted across Cale’s features, and Cale’s been so chill. He’s never asked for them to define this, never stopped Nate from asking him to stay the night with a question about what this means for them.

And no one else has asked because no one else knows.

The staff at the rink just think that Nate is adopting the rookie, taking him under his wing and showing him the ropes.

Matt tells him it’s great how much they hang out, says that he and his wife love having Cale around but that he knows how important it is for him to hang out with guys closer to his age and in similar situations.

The staff don’t know that Nate likes to watch Cale workout, likes to follow the lines of his body as he sinks into a squat. Matt doesn’t know that Cale stays over half the time because they’re having sex and not because he’s too tired to drive. They don’t know about any of it, but the guys do.

They know Nate’s been AWOL, ignoring their texts and questions in favor of taking Cale to baseball games or out to restaurants he’s wanted to try but hasn’t had the time for. They know he’s been sleeping with Cale in the biblical sense for the past two weeks, but their running commentary has been easy to ignore. EJ’s laid up on the couch healing. Gabe’s at worlds. Tyson’s been on vacation, and frankly, it’s pretty fucking incredible that he hasn’t shown up at Nate’s house and demanded answers yet. They know, and tomorrow they’ll all be in the same place, at the same time.

And they’re expecting Nate to be there.

And Cale, too.

Fuck, fucking fuck. Holy fucking shit, this is worse than he thought. This is, this is so bad. This is so bad, and Nate can’t face them, can’t deal with all the questions and dirty jokes and raised eyebrows, but he doesn’t have any reason to say no.

If he begs off tomorrow, they’ll just push it back another day, or they’ll show up at his house and decide that he’s hosting the party.

He’s here; they know it, and tomorrow they’ll all be back and ready to grill Nate like a burger, peppering him with questions he doesn’t have the answers to.

He can’t do that, isn’t ready to deal with that.

He needs to get out.

He needs to be unavailable, not just for an afternoon but for a few weeks, a few months maybe.

He needs to leave Denver and clear his head. Maybe this has all been some playoff-elimination-induced insanity. Maybe when he’s far away from Colorado and Cale and his perfect hands and his stupid mouth, he’ll realize he’s not actually that into him, that he was just caught up in the moment.

Yes. YES.

He needs to go, needs to go home. Yes, that’s it!

He needs to go home and hang out with his parents and his sister and train with Sid and eat his mom’s cooking. He needs to be far away from tempting rookies with their soft smiles and biting kisses, needs to be far away from nosy friends.

And it needs to happen now.

He looks for the earliest flight possible and books a ticket even though it’s expensive as fuck day-of.

To Mom and Pops (12:04PM)  
[screenshot]  
SURPRISE!!  
(confetti emojis)  
Can I get a ride home?

He orders an Uber and heads to his bedroom to grab the essentials. He doesn’t need to pack much, has plenty back at the house in Nova Scotia, so as soon as his phone buzzes to notify him that a car has arrived, he’s out the door and down the steps, one suitcase in hand and a hockey bag slung over his shoulder.

“Hey, man,” he greets the driver. “Faster you can get me there, the better.”

The guy eyes him in the mirror. “You in a rush?”

“Little bit, yeah. Got a flight I need to catch in two hours.”

“You willing to pay the ticket if I get pulled over, Mr. NHL star?”

Nate grins widely. “Absolutely, I’m good for it. I promise.”

“I bet you are,” he responds, and they get to the airport in record time, no cops in sight. Nate leaves a solid tip and an autograph and heads inside.

He hustles through security, for once willing to milk the fame for all its worth, if it means he can make his flight and be home before midnight.

From TBeauts (12:06PM)  
Did you fucking put me on read?  
Are you serious?  
Dude.

From TBeauts (12:16PM)  
Hey dick, I’m coming over.

From TBeauts (12:20PM)  
Answer your fucking door.  
I know you’re home.

From TBeauts (12:37PM)  
You’re an ass.

**The Four Musketeers**

TBeauts (12:09PM)  
Nate isn’t answering.  
I think he put me on read.

Horse Girl (12:11PM)  
They can’t still be fucking.

Gabe the Babe (12:12PM)  
Maybe they’re out somewhere.  
I’m sure they do more than fuck.

TBeauts (12:13PM)  
Nah, his car is there.

Horse Girl (12:14PM)  
Go crash his place.  
Interrupt them.

Gabe the Babe (12:15PM)  
But be nice about it.

TBeauts (12:21PM)  
He’s not answering.

Horse Girl (12:21PM)  
DAYUM.  
DAYUMMMMM.

Gabe the Babe (12:22PM)  
What the fuck.

Nate Dogg (12:44PM)  
Can’t make it tomorrow.  
Sorry.

He shuts his phone off immediately and shoves it in his pocket, tipping his head back and letting out a heavy breath. He wishes he was already home. Everything is simpler there, just training and hanging out with his parents and Sarah and his dogs, no gorgeous rookies to complicate his life.

\----

Somewhere between Boston and Halifax, he realizes that Cale has almost definitely come over by now, maybe with some of the sandwiches from that café he’s been obsessed with. He probably crashed on the couch—because he has a key to Nate’s house and can do that—thinking that Nate was out and would be back soon, and Nate wonders how long it’ll take him to realize Nate won’t be coming back.

Shit, shit, shit. That’s not a good thought. Don’t think about that. Don’t think about it.

Nate shoves his headphone jack into the armrest and chooses a random movie, cranking the volume up to drown out his own thoughts.

\----

“Hey kid,” Graham says when Nate’s debarked, pulling him into a hug. “You couldn’t have picked an earlier flight?”

“Nah, I tried to pick the latest one.”

“Well, you succeeded. Congratulations.”

With a roll of her eyes, Kathy nudges her husband away and wraps her arms around Nate. “We’re so happy you’re here! I thought you wouldn’t be coming home for another couple weeks, but here you are. You hungry?”

“Do you ever expect me to actually say no to that?”

Grinning, she loops an arm around his waist, and they head for the exit. “I would never want to force my food on you.”

“You wouldn’t have to.”

Outside, the air is cool and crisp, tinged with a hint of salt that will always make Nate think of home. He sucks in a deep breath and lets it out, lets the stress and worry flow away with it as they head towards Graham’s truck.

“How’s the shoulder?” Graham asks once they’re on the road for Cole Harbour. “PT finish up okay?”

The panic returns abruptly. He forgot about PT, forgot about his shoulder, forgot that there was more going on in Denver than whatever the hell he and Cale were getting up to.

“Yeah,” he squeaks out. “Yeah, I’ll still need to check in with the therapist to let them know how things are going, but I’m good.”

It isn’t a total lie. When he’d gone in that morning, they’d told him that he was mostly healed and would just need to take it easy on the weights for a couple more weeks. He should call them though. Tomorrow, he’ll call them tomorrow.

“That’s great!” Kathy gushes, and Nate must have done a decent enough job keeping his voice normal because she doesn’t mention it. “I’m so glad you didn’t need surgery for that. God, I didn’t tell you then, but when I watched the way you skated off the ice, not even moving your arm, I was so worried. Oh, it was awful.”

Graham nods in agreement.

“Well, it’s good now, so no need to worry. How have things been here?” and the question gets them through the drive and a reheated dinner for Nate.

Kathy tells him about the latest drama with the neighbors, the success the bantam team is having, the boy that Sarah’s been seeing, and Nate lets the conversation flow over him, nodding where needed and letting his mom shuffle him off to bed when his head begins to droop.

“I put fresh sheets on your bed, so you should be good there. We can take you over to your place tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah, sounds good,” Nate mutters, and he feels like he could pass out from the exhaustion.

“You’ll also have to catch us up on everything since we left Colorado! I just talked your ear off, and you didn’t get a word in edgewise.”

“It’s okay.” He drops onto his bed. “Night, mom.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” she says and bends to wrap him in a hug. “Get some good sleep, and we can talk in the morning.”

“Kay,” Nate says, and he isn’t sure if she responds, too tired to keep his eyelids open any longer.

\----

They don’t have much time for talking the next morning though because Nate has a mess to clean up. Well, he has messes, messes upon messes, but he’s not ready or willing to touch most of them with a ten-foot pole, so when he turns his phone on and feels it vibrate for a solid minute, he lets out a breath and tries to wade through it all.

There are a million messages and missed calls, from the group text, from Gabe and Tyson and EJ, from Cale, and nope. Nope.

He pulls up the doctor’s number as quickly as he can, hits call, and lies his ass off about why he isn’t in Denver anymore. She’s not happy, but he was close enough to the end that she isn’t too concerned about him completely fucking his shoulder up.

“Do you remember all the stretches? Actually, don’t answer that. I’ll send you an email with those and some workouts you need to do before you get back into full weightlifting.”

“Kay.”

“I’ll call you back in a couple days.”

“Actually, could I call you?” Nate interrupts.

“Sorry?”

“Could I call you?” Nate repeats more confidently. “I’m trying to take a break from my phone right now, so it would be easier if we picked a time, and I called you.”

She sighs. “That shouldn’t be a problem. How about noon your time in three days? Noon on Friday.”

“I can do that.”

“Okay, bye Nate. Take care of yourself.”

“Will do.”

After the call disconnects, he shuts his phone back down. He’ll deal with everything else later. For now, he needs to open his house back up, probably go grocery shopping, maybe send Sid an email to see when he wants to start training.

He needs to just go and do stuff, needs to be moving and doing because sitting still is giving him too much time to think. Too much time to think about all the missed calls, the texts from Cale asking where he is, if he’s okay.

He shuts the thought down.

That way lies madness.

\----

It’s easy to fall back into his regular routine at home. He wakes up (alone), works out (alone), showers (alone), and finds things to do around the house (alone). When he starts to feel like his skin is crawling from the silence and solitude, he’ll run to his parents or skate himself into the ground or head into Halifax and drop in at a bar or club because he needs to get out of his own head.

And that’s how he finds himself at one of the older bars in downtown, nursing his fifth beer and trying not to look as surly as he feels.

He’d woken up hard and aching, in desperate need of relief, but when he had shoved a hand in his boxers, all he could think about was Cale. Cale on his knees, sucking Nate off, wet and messy. Cale in his lap, warm and solid, circling his hips in a sultry grind. Cale under him when Nate’s shoulder had finally been up to the task, thighs tight around Nate’s waist and mouth hanging open as he moaned.

He’d come. Of course, he’d come. Nate wasn’t sure there’d ever be a time when thinking about Cale didn’t get him off, but as soon as the warm glow faded, he’d felt like shit.

So he’s in the bar, sitting by himself and smiling tightly each time the bartender tries to start a conversation. They’ve already run through the basic questions (“Are you…” “Yup.” “What’s it like playing in the NHL?” “Awesome.” “Think you guys have a chance at the Cup next year?” “Thought we did this year.”), and the guy has clearly realized he’s not looking for a chat and has since left him alone.

“If you stare hard enough, will it magically refill?” someone asks, and Nate turns to see a woman, his age or maybe a little younger, standing a few feet away. She’s pretty, or at least Nate thinks she’s supposed to be pretty. He’s not sure what that even means anymore.

“Hasn’t worked yet,” Nate grumbles because maybe this is what he needs.

She laughs, though it wasn’t very funny, and waves toward the empty stool beside him. “Mind if I take a seat?”

“Go for it.”

The bartender takes her order, and Nate gets another, too, ignoring the warning look that earns him.

“You on break from school?” she asks after a few sips of her drink, something fruity that Tyson would probably love.

“No.”

“Already graduate?”

“Didn’t go to school,” Nate responds in an attempt to go beyond monosyllables.

She swirls her straw through her drink, and Nate watches the bubbles rise to the top of his beer. “Then what do you do?”

“I play hockey.”

“Ah.”

“Not a fan?”

She shrugs. “It’s never really interested me. I guess that probably makes me pretty un-Canadian.”

Nate grins wryly. “I don’t know. How do you feel about curling?” he asks, and they end up having a decent conversation.

Nate learns that she’s home for the summer, back from her third year at university where she is studying environmental science. She wants to work as a ranger in one of the national parks, helping conserve species and foster biodividery or something—he can’t quite remember the word, and his tongue is slow and stubborn when he tries to say it anyways. In return, she asks about his career and seems genuinely interested in the answers, though he doesn’t think she’ll watch any more hockey after this than she did before.

“You’re not interested in me, are you?” she suddenly asks, and Nate chokes on a mouthful of beer.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, mopping at the puddle with a couple napkins.

“It’s alright. Just thought I’d ask.”

“Oh no, I’m not—I was talking about the beer, not—not the other thing.”

She arches a single brow. “The other thing?” she repeats through a grin, and Nate can’t help the flush that rises up his neck and cheeks.

“Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” she responds. “The beer and the other thing, I mean.”

She has a nice smile, maybe not as nice as—no, not doing that. Bad idea, bad idea. She has a nice smile.

“I didn’t mean—it’s not that I’m not—I just…” he starts and stops more times than he should have to, mouth fumbling around the words, and she lays a hand over his.

Her hands are soft, not hockey soft obviously, but soft like they’re smooth, smooth and uncallused and so small on his. They’re nice hands, objectively speaking.

“Don’t worry about it,” she tells him and squeezes gently. “I won’t take it personally.”

“No, you shouldn’t. It’s not. I just have—there’s—” There’s no one, he should say. There’s no one else is his life, and a pretty girl is talking to him in a bar, had approached him to strike up a conversation in the first place. She’s clearly interested, and the fact that she couldn’t care less about hockey should make this a slam dunk, but it’s not. It’s not because her hands are small and her smile is nice but not perfect and her eyes are hazel, and none of that is okay.

“I get it. Seriously, it’s okay.”

Nate wants to protest, wants to tell her that it’s not her—it’s him. It’s all him. The lack of interest, the comparisons to someone else, the dick that doesn’t seem to care because this isn’t the right person—but Nate doesn’t say any of that.

“I’m sorry. I’ve just got some stuff I’m working through.”

She nods in understanding and lets his hand go. “You’re good,” she says, “and you seem like a nice guy—a lot better than any of the hockey players I knew in high school—so I hope you figure it out. I hope things work out.”

There’s a lump in Nate’s throat like he tried to swallow before chewing enough, and it sticks painfully. “Thanks,” he mutters. “I really did enjoy talking to you, and I’m sorry I wasn’t better company.”

She waves the words away. “No need to apologize. It’s all good.”

Nate swallows past the lump, but it lodges in his chest instead, weighing him down like a stone around his neck. “Thank you, seriously, and for whatever it’s worth, any other guy in here would’ve been lucky to talk to you.”

Her smile widens. “You may be headed home, but the night is still young. Lots of other fish in the sea and all that.”

“Good luck,” he tells her and throws the rest of his cash on the bar. “It was nice to meet you.”

“You too,” she answers, eyes already scanning the room, and she throws him a final grin as he walks out the door, feeling slow and sleepy.

\----

The next morning leaves his mouth tasting like shit, tongue feeling fuzzy and thick in his mouth, and he rolls over with a groan. He doesn’t want to cook, doesn’t want to do anything today. It’s Saturday, and Saturdays are for late breakfast and all-day pajamas and cartoons on his parents couch.

He heaves himself out of bed and gives his teeth a perfunctory brushing before driving over to his parents’, barefoot and yawning.

“Hey Mom, Dad!” he calls when he slips through the door, beelining for the kitchen where the smell of bacon still lingers.

“Hey bud, your mom’s at the grocery store, but she left a plate for you in the oven.”

Bless his mother; she is a saint.

With hot pads on, he pulls the plate out and feels his mouth water at the sight. Bacon and eggs and a nice stack of fluffy pancakes.

Correction, Kathy MacKinnon is a goddess.

“She said something about a phone call for you,” Graham tells him, newspaper laid out before him because he’s an old man, even if he denies it.

“Phone call?”

“Yeah, someone called yesterday looking for you, and she told them to try again this morning.” He shoots Nate a wry smile. “Knew you’d come around this morning.”

“It’s Saturday breakfast. I’m not missing that,” Nate declares and douses his pancakes in syrup. “Who was it? Someone from the Avs?”

He’s kept his phone off as much as possible because he doesn’t trust himself not to fuck things up more than he already has, and management’s been pretty respectful of that, even told him that it was a mature decision to take some time away from it all and relax. If they’ve needed to contact him, they send an email.

“Don’t know. She didn’t say. Hey, have you heard about all of this nonsense with Malkin?”

“Hmm?”

“People ‘close’ to upper management are talking shit,” Graham says, and they fall into easy conversation about trade rumors and free agents, the upcoming draft and the likelihood of Kakko beating out Hughes for number one.

As soon as Kathy arrives home, she enlists them to haul the grocery bags in because she had to do all the shopping, so they need to pull their weight somehow.

Nate’s on his second trip, arms loaded with as many bags as possible, when he hears the phone ring once, then twice before stopping. He can’t make out what his mom is saying, too far away to distinguish any words, but then she calls him in.

“It’s for you.”

“Who is it?” he asks, a million questions racing through his head because how many people have this number for him?

“He said I should call him TBeauts,” she answers, and she so obviously knows who it is but thinks the dumb nickname is funny, so she uses it.

A chill runs through Nate because he doesn’t want to talk, not to Tyson, not to anyone back in Denver. He had wanted space, needed to get away because…because it was too much, too fast, and he still has no idea what any of it means, and he doesn’t know if he wants to, and can’t his mom see that? Can’t she make up some excuse and hang up? Can’t she?

No, she can’t. She can’t, and she’s holding the phone out and smiling like Tyson had said something he thought was funny but wasn’t actually, and she’s expecting him to take it because he’s a fucking adult.

He sets the bags down and takes the phone, walking towards the stairs because this is probably not going to be a conversation he wants her to overhear.

“Hello?”

“If you hang up on me, I’m going to fucking castrate you, Nathan MacKinnon.” His voice is fierce, and Nate stumbles at the words.

“Right, yeah,” he answers, shutting his door and locking it for good measure.

“Good. Now listen up, asshole. I have spent the last two weeks calling you and texting you and trying everything within my power to get ahold of you. I’ve talked to every guy on our fucking team, reached out to goddamn Crosby and Drouin and a couple other guys, too, and no one’s been able to tell me shit about what’s going on.

“I didn’t want to call your family because I knew they’d ask questions about why I was calling you on your fucking home phone since I’m your best friend, or I thought I was your best friend, and should be able to reach you on your cell. I didn’t know how to explain to them why you weren’t answering any of my calls or texts, so I decided they would be a last resort.

“And when no one else had any answers for me, I used that last resort. I have called your home three times, man, three fucking times, and I think your mom is a little weirded out at this point and probably knows that something’s up because I shouldn’t have to call your home phone to get ahold of you, dude. What the fuck.”

“I’m sorry,” Nate begins.

“No,” Tyson interrupts brusquely, “don’t fucking say that if you don’t mean it, and I know you don’t fucking mean it because if you did you would have called me back already.”

“I—”

“Don’t Nate. Don’t you dare. I don’t want to hear it.”

Nate slumps onto the bed and braces his elbows on his knees, head hanging low.

“I won’t say it,” he promises, and his throat feels tight.

“Good.”

Tyson exhales, and it crackles across the line loudly enough that Nate has to pull the phone away from his ear. “I’m pissed at you, Nate, so fucking pissed, but I’m still you’re best friend, and I think you need a friend right now.”

“I do.”

“And sometimes, the best friends are the ones who will be completely honest with you when you fuck up.”

Nate cringes, “Okay.”

Tyson sighs and begins in a soft tone, “Look, I don’t care that you skipped town without telling me or EJ or Gabe. That’s fine. You don’t need to tell us when you’re leaving or where you’re going or when you’ll be back. You don’t owe us that. It would be nice though. But,” he says, and his voice rises suddenly, “I do fucking care that you bailed on Cale without even leaving a goddamn note. Like are you fucking kidding me, dude? That was the shittiest thing ever. Like straight up ever.”

Wincing, Nate stays silent.

“And the only reason I know that is because I saw Cale bringing some of his stuff out of your house one day to take it back over to the Calvert’s, which by the way Matt’s been pestering me with a million questions about you leaving because Cale has been a sad fuck about it and I didn’t know what to say. So I stopped to talk with Cale and asked him where you were, and he just shrugged. He fucking shrugged, Nate, and mumbled something about you going home. He looked like he was about to cry, so I took him back to my place and made him tell me everything.

“And you know what I realized? There was nothing to tell. The kid knew nothing. Apparently you had been around that morning, had even made plans to go to a movie that night, and when he came over, you were gone. And I mean, obviously he didn’t realize you were gone gone because your car was sitting outside, and it’s not like you take much home because you’ve got stuff there, so he didn’t even know what had happened until you didn’t come back at all! He only found out where you’d gone when the physical therapist mentioned something at the Pepsi Center after he’d gone in for a workout.

“And when I asked him why he hadn’t just asked  _me_  about it, he said ‘I’ve been with him every day. I shouldn’t have to ask anyone else where he is. I should know.’ And you know what? He should’ve fucking known. He should’ve known because he was spending half his nights at your house, and he should’ve known because you were sleeping together. He should’ve known because he’s the only fucking person who deserved to know where you had gone.”

Nate’s jaw aches with the force of gritting his teeth, and he can feel tears gathering in his eyes.

“And you wanna know the worst part?” Tyson asks, voice suddenly soft and low, dangerous. “Through this whole shit show, I kept wondering what the hell you’d done, why you had run because you would only do that after a huge fucking mistake, like monumentally bad, and I kept asking myself what that could be, what could be so bad that you’d leave without a trace.” He sounds choked up, frustration and despair coating every word. “But before Cale left that day, he turned, looked me right in the fucking eye, and said, ‘Did I do something wrong?’”

Nate bites down on his lip, fighting off the ugly sob that’s building in his chest.

“What the fucking hell kind of bullshit question is that? What did he do? What did  _he_ do? You fuck off to the Maritimes, clearly running away because you aren’t willing to own up to whatever it is you did, and he asks what  _he_ did wrong? That’s bullshit, Nate, fucking bullshit. You were an asshole for leaving, but you’re an even bigger asshole for ever making him feel like he could be the problem here.”

He stops abruptly and falls silent, breath labored, and there are tears rolling down Nate’s cheeks. They carve salty paths over his jaw and cling to his chin before falling to the ground. “I fucked up, Tys.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“No, I don’t mean this. I mean, yeah, okay, this was shitty, but I mean sleeping with him—”

“What?” Tyson screeches, and Nate can feel his defenses go up.

“I shouldn’t’ve slept with him in the first place! It was a bad idea, and I was dumb enough to keep doing it.”

“Are you serious?”

“Tys, he’s our teammate!”

“So what?”

“He’s our new rookie!”

“Who cares?”

“Who—? I don’t know, probably Sakic and Bedsy and the fucking Kroenkes, probably a hundred guys all over the league!”

“They don’t have to know,” Tyson points out. “It’s not their business so long as it doesn’t affect your game, and I know you love hockey too much to ever let a relationship impact it.”

“I know. You’re right, and that’s exactly why sleeping with Cale was such a bad idea.”

“What? That doesn’t even make sense. Those aren’t the same thing!”

“Yes, they are!”

“How?”

Nate scrunches his face in confusion. “What do you mean how?”

“I mean how! How are those the same thing? I’m saying you’d never let relationship problems affect your game, and you’re saying what? That sleeping with Cale is a problem in itself?”

“Yes!”

Tyson scoffs. “From everything EJ’s told me, Cale was maybe the best thing to ever happen to you. How the hell is that a problem?”

Nate groans, dragging a hand over his face. “I already told you! He’s our teammate.”

“Not a factor.”

“And he’s a guy!”

“Holy shit, are you seriously being homophobic right now?”

“No! But I’ve never been into guys before!”

“So what, you’re having a gay crisis right now? Bro, don’t waste your time. Guys can loves guys or girls or nongender people or whoever. That doesn’t fucking matter. Did you enjoy sleeping with Cale?”

Nate flushes, and it’s ridiculous because they’ve talked about sex before, in way more detail, so this shouldn’t be a problem. “Yeah, I guess.”

“You guess? You GUESS? Don’t fucking front, man. I’m pretty sure you slept with him more in those few weeks than every girlfriend you’ve had combined.”

Nate huffs, “No way,” and Tyson snorts derisively.

“Dude, you want to tell me again how many times you two did it in the first twenty-four hours? I mean, I’m sure you didn’t keep that same pace up because that’s probably not healthy, but you clearly enjoyed it a lot.”

“Shut up,” Nate grouses.

“No, this is what friends are for,” Tyson informs him, and Nate can hear the fierce grin in his voice. “So he’s a guy, and he’s your teammate,” he goes on, serious once more. “Okay, fine, I get how that could be a little overwhelming at first, but this doesn’t change who you are, man. You’re still Nate, still my best friend and swaggest buddy. You just happen to enjoy sleeping with dudes, and I’m fine with that. Actually, I support you in that, wholeheartedly.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, but I still think those are kind of shitty excuses to leave like that. And maybe for you, it was just a casual thing, but I don’t think it was for Cale. I think he’s pretty torn up about it, and I know it wouldn’t have been easy to tell him that you weren’t into him like that, but it would have been a hell of a lot better than this.”

“That’s not true,” Nate blurts out and claps a hand to his mouth immediately.

“For real? You think this is better? Dude, you didn’t see what he looked like. You don’t know—”

“No.”

Tyson doesn’t say anything, and he’s probably waiting for Nate to continue, but he can’t. He really, really can’t.

“Nate, buddy, I can’t read your mind, especially not from thousands of kilometers away.”

He waits.

Nate stays silent, and Tyson sighs. “Look, you fucked up big time here, and you’re going to have to sort things out eventually because Cale is a part of this team and probably will be until after you retire. I’m not asking you to kiss and make up, but you’re definitely going to have to make up, and if you can’t even talk to me about this, there’s no way in hell—”

“It wasn’t casual.”

“That you—what?” Silence. “What did you say?”

Nate sucks in a quick breath, then lets a slow exhale. “It wasn’t casual.”

“Wasn’t—dude, what the fuck.”

“It wasn’t casual.”

“Okay, okay, you just said that…three times,” Tyson says, and he sounds breathless with shock. “So what are you trying to say? That you broke up with Cale by leaving the country and now you don’t know how to play with your ex-boyfriend on the same team?”

“What? No, no, we weren’t dating.”

“You weren’t dating?” and he says it slowly, tone heavy with judgement.

“No.”

“But it wasn’t casual?”

“No, I mean, yes. I—it wasn’t casual.”

“I’m so confused,” Tyson mutters before continuing louder, “so let me get this straight. You and Cale were in a not-casual relationship, by which I mean that you were hanging out all the time and sleeping together and apparently visiting the homes of crippled teammates together. Then, one day, you decide to just peace out and leave behind the best thing that ever happened to you?”

“Well, when you put it like that it sounds stupid.”

“Nate?”

“Yeah?”

“It is stupid.”

“No, it’s not!”

“Oh yeah? Explain that to me.”

Nate falters. He doesn’t know what to say, hasn’t been able to put words to any of this since he left Denver. “I don’t…I don’t know.”

“Seriously?” Tyson asks, and he sounds mildly pissed again. “You spend weeks with this kid, happy as a clam, and suddenly you want to leave? Just like that? Nate, I’m really doing my best to see things from your side, but this shit is just making it way too hard.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say!”

“Tell me why you left! Tell me why you walked away from someone that made you happy! Tell me why you thought it was okay to break Cale’s heart.” Nate sucks in breath. “Oh, don’t act like that surprises you. You literally just told me it wasn’t casual.”

Nate has spent every day since he left trying to get Cale off his mind, trying to not wonder what he’s doing or how he’s feeling, and he’s had moderate success. He’s told himself that he doesn’t actually know, that everything he’s thinking is just theory and guesswork, that he doesn’t have any proof.

Now he does, and he hates how quickly his mind can produce the image of a teary-eyed and heartbroken Cale, hates that every feature is still fresh in his memory.

“Tyson,” he says quietly, interrupting whatever spiel he’d been giving. “Tyson, I can’t talk about this right now.”

“What? Is there seriously anything more important—”

“No, stop.”

“Nate?”

“I can’t talk about this right now,” he says and hangs up, letting the phone slip from between his fingers and crash to the floor.

He lies back and flings an arm over his eyes, and at some point, he must fall asleep because the next thing he knows, someone is knocking at the door, soft raps, that lull him back into consciousness.

“Nate? Nate is everything alright?”

He sits up and scrubs at his eyes, feeling lethargic and hollowed out like someone reached into his chest and carved out his organs, leaving nothing behind. He bends to collect the phone, then trudges to the door.

“Hey Mom,” he greets. “Sorry, I accidentally fell asleep.”

“Oh that’s alright. Your dad and I were thinking about starting dinner and wanted to see if you’d be staying.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. Do you need any help?”

Kathy smiles softly at him and lifts a hand to cradle his cheek. “You’ve grown up so much. I’m so proud of you.”

Something twists in Nate’s belly, and he can only nod in reply, following her down the stairs and into the kitchen where he falls into the familiar rhythm of home.

\----

Over the next few days, he does his best to put that conversation out of his mind, but his body betrays him. Dreams where Cale was flushed and beautiful, begging him not to stop, have been replaced with nightmares where he is desperate and tearful, pleading with Nate not to leave. Little things, like the way the toothpaste tube is rolled or the endless blue of the sky at midday, things that used to make him think of Cale and smile now leave him frowning and unhappy.

He knows he’s not the best company, can see the concerned looks his parents share when he waves away a call from Tyson or makes up some excuse to not go out with friends, but there’s nothing to be done.

He fucked up, not once but twice, and he’s determined to not fuck up again. Staying away seems to be the best option for that; if he’s not there, he can’t fuck anything up, right? Right.

\----

There’s a steak waiting for the grill and a tray of vegetables roasting in the oven when his doorbell rings, and it echoes through the house ominously. His parents and Sarah have keys, and Sid had said he wouldn’t be back for another week or two, so Nate doesn’t know what to expect when he opens the door.

Gabe, Tyson, and EJ on his front porch still manage to take him by surprise.

“What the fuck.”

“Hello, Nathan,” Gabe replies in his faux polite, I’m-actually-pissed-as-hell-right-now voice. “It’s great to see you, too.”

“Are you grilling?” EJ asks, stepping through the doorway and toeing his shoes off.

“Hey Nate,” Tyson says with a wave, looking tight-lipped and mildly enraged, which, fair. Nate hung up on him and hasn’t answered his calls.

“Why are you here?” he asks no one in particular, watching them file in like this is normal.

“I came for the food,” EJ answers and heads toward the back of the house.

“I’m trying to keep you from ruining your life,” Gabe adds, and he would be that dramatic.

“I’m just the driver,” Tyson finishes, and Nate cringes. It’s going to take some time to get back into his good graces.

“I have a gate,” Nate points out. “I have two gates.”

“We climbed the fence.”

What the fuck. “Are you serious? You climbed the fence?”

Tyson shrugs casually. “It’s not like it’s hard. Only problem was making sure EJ was careful.”

Nate doesn’t even know what to do with that. They climbed his fence. They climbed his fucking fence. “How long are you staying?”

“However long it takes for you to pull your head out of your ass,” Gabe responds with a light glare. “What are you cooking?”

“Lunch,” Nate responds stupidly and trails them to the kitchen, still in a state of shock, not truly processing anything beyond Gabe, Tyson, and EJ in Nova Scotia, in Grand Lake. What the fuck kind of twilight zone shit is this?

Gabe opens the fridge, looking every bit the judgmental snob he is. “We’re going to need to go grocery shopping. You barely have any food.”

“I have plenty of food!” he defends, but he knows that’s not exactly the case. Grocery shopping hasn’t really been his top priority the past few days.

“We’ll go after lunch,” he says with an air of finality, and Nate blinks at him.

“Are there any more steaks in there?” EJ asks, coming in from the patio, tongs already in hand. “Nate only has one out here, and there’s no way in hell that’s going to feed all of us.”

“You’re out of your sling,” Nate blurts, and EJ raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah, passed the four week mark yesterday. Still gotta be careful, but the doctor said I don’t have to wear it anymore.”

Gabe hands over a couple more steaks and levels Nate with a look. “You would know that if you had answered your phone.”

“Hey,” Tyson interrupts. “We’re not doing that right now, okay?”

Gabe frowns but doesn’t object, and he turns to the cabinets, opening each one until he finds the plates and cups and begins to set the table.

“Are you guys staying here?” Nate asks when the clink of silverware begins to grate on his nerves.

“Obviously.”

“Obviously? Don’t you guys have stuff to do? Shouldn’t EJ be going to PT right now? Shouldn’t you both be home with your wife and girlfriend?”

“This was more important,” Gabe says primly as he returns to the fridge and begins to pull out some beers.

“I really don’t think it was.”

Tyson snorts, and Gabe scoffs. “Shut up, Nathan. You’re just making things worse.”

“I don’t think things can get worse.”

Mouth in a flat line, Gabe eyes him. “That’s maybe the smartest thing I’ve heard from you since this whole debacle began,” he intones, and Nate looks away, mouthing the word ‘debacle’ to himself because who actually says that?

“Steaks are ready!” EJ hollers, and he finds himself pushed into a chair as the guys move around him, EJ carrying a platter and Tyson removing the vegetables from the oven while Gabe pops open the beers.

Everyone settles into place, and the food is served, and this feels like a normal meal because they’ve eaten together so many times, but Nate can’t settle down because they’re in his house, in Nova Scotia, and nothing about this is right.

“So how were Worlds?” he finally asks to break the tension, and Gabe lights up.

They talk about Gabe’s travels, Tyson’s vacation, and EJ’s recovery and recount multiple barely-plausible stories about their Vegas shenanigans that Nate doubts the verity of.

He gets an update on Zoey the dog and Landeskog the racing horse, hears about the roommates’ road trip across the West, and sees pictures of Z’s kid. He bites down on every question about Cale that tries to push its way out because he doesn’t deserve to know, and they probably wouldn’t tell him anyways.

After lunch, they make him give them a tour of the house, claiming bedrooms and commenting on the sparse decoration, and they decide the rest of the afternoon must be spent on the lake.

“Let’s go to the store first though,” Gabe says in his captain’s voice. “We’ll get our car on the way back,” and Nate finds his keys.

“I’m getting ice cream,” Tyson announces, when they’re strolling through the supermarket, and he pulls out multiple containers of Ben & Jerry’s, “and you’re paying for it.” Nate fishes out his wallet.

“Are the Sea-Doos gassed up?” EJ asks with a wide grin once they’ve stepped onto the trail leading toward the dock, and Nate nods.

They laze around until the sun dips low and Tyson starts to make noise about dinner, and then they eat on the back patio, grilled chicken and squash, chattering about summer plans and workouts, the cool night air flowing around them, and Nate feels himself slowly relax.

\----

The next morning, there’s a knock at his bedroom door, and he opens it to see all three dressed in shorts and running shoes. Not some crazy, long, sadness-induced dream then.

“You got an O’Brien-approved workout for us?” Gabe asks, and Nate knuckles at his eyes.

“Why are you up this early?”

“It’s nine o’clock, Nathan,” EJ says. “Why are you in bed this late?”

He groans but changes and leads them out to the gym, pointing EJ toward the resistance bands for his stretches and running Tyson and Gabe through the workout, wondering what the hell he did in a past life to deserve this.

Then he remembers he doesn’t have to look back that far. Fuck.

\----

He hadn’t had the gym built with this many people in mind, but they make it work, chatting idly as they move through the different rotations, comparing training regimens and lifting techniques, and chirping each other on form and weight and reps.

Nate falls into the rhythm of it, the clank of plates and the whir of machinery, losing himself in the burn of muscle, the feel of sweat dripping down his temples, and when they begin cool down, his mind feels clearer than it has in days.

After lunch, EJ decides the pool is in need of their attention, so they head out back in flip flops and board shorts, armed with magazines and books, phones and snacks to keep them busy, and they cook under the sun, Tyson the only one really able to tan.

They watch a movie that night, most nodding off after too much sunlight and heavy food, and Nate smiles to see Tyson conked out on Gabe’ shoulder, dead to the world.

\----

Each day is a variation of that. Workout, go on the lake or to the pool, grill more than Nate ever has before, and watch dumb Netflix shows that Gabe requests.

When the weekend rolls around, Gabe declares that they are going out and must therefore dress their best. Nate tries to tell him that this is Nova Scotia and no one cares if they show up in joggers and old t-shirts, but Gabe insists.

They wind up at one of the swankier bars in town, though that’s not saying much. This is still Nova Scotia.

They’ve each had a few beers (margaritas for Tyson) and a couple shots and have been talking about nothing of importance when Tyson suddenly turns to Nate, brows furrowed and lips in a pout.

“Why aren’t you talking to the waitress?” he says with a light slur, squinting at Nate.

“Because I’m talking to you,” Nate responds and reaches for another beer because his is gone and that’s no good.

“Yeah, but she’s into you.”

“Is she?”

Tyson nods repeatedly, looking like a bobblehead, and Nate shrugs.

“Seriously?” Gabe chimes in. “That’s all you have to say?”

Nate can feel his hackles rise, and he clutches his bottle a little bit closer like it can protect him or something. “What else is there to say?”

EJ whistles lowly. “Dude, for real? There’s a hot girl who’s been giving you eyes all night, and you’re not even somewhat interested? No way.”

Nate shrugs again, and he feels like he’s rapidly losing the pleasant buzz that had been zipping through his system.

“Is this—” Gabe falters and spins in his seat to look behind him.

They’d managed to get a corner booth, far from the boisterous crowd gathering around the bar, so when he’s satisfied that no one is close enough to overhear, he turns back and leans in, palms smacking against the table as he eyes Nate. “Is this because of you-know-who?”

Nate barely manages to keep his beer from tipping over when he jumps. “What?” he asks, heart pounding against his ribs.

Gabe’s lips twist, and his gaze isn’t entirely focused, but he musters enough coordination to shoot Nate a glare. “Don’t play dumb, Nate. It’s unbecoming.”

“Unbe—I’m not playing anything!” Nate cries and immediately looks around to make sure no one is listening. “What the fuck, man. Why are you asking about that right now?”

He frowns at Nate, almost nonexistent eyebrows dipping low over his hard, blue eyes. “Because maybe you’ll answer.”

“Answer?” Nate parrots. “Oh my god, did you guys just bring me here to get me drunk so I’d talk? That’s so shitty.”

“No!” Tyson yelps, and he clumsily pulls Nate against his side, and now Nate gets why Tys had insisted on the outside seat. He’s hemmed in, Gabe and EJ across from him, and Tyson beside him. There’s nowhere to go. “No, no, no. We’re not getting you drunk. No!”

“We just thought you could use some help to relax,” EJ explains, and Nate feels betrayed.

“You fuckers,” he hisses. “You’ve been waiting for this all week, haven’t you? All the workouts and the hanging out was just to get me to let my guard down.”

“No,” Gabe says, and he looks pissed. “Don’t say that. Don’t act like you believe it for one second. We are your friends and have been for years, since you were a snot-nosed rookie trying to make it in the NHL. We care about you. We love you.

“Yes, this trip was about getting you to talk and work through this,” he admits, gaining speed. “Yes, that conversation is still going to happen, but we haven’t been trying to grease your wheels all week. We’ve been trying to show you that we’re still your friends and that we want to talk to you, want to hang out with you. This isn’t about punishing you for the choices you’ve made. It’s about supporting you as you right the wrongs you’ve created.”

“Shit,” EJ murmurs, “that was way better than anything I could have said,” and Tyson nods in agreement. Nate tries to maintain his glare.

“He’s right,” Tyson says, arm still wrapped around Nate’s shoulder, and he offers a gentle squeeze. “It’s like I told you, best friends aren’t just there for the good times but the bad ones, too. They’re there to call you on your bullshit and push you to be better.” He nuzzles against Nate’s neck in the way only he can get away with. “And we’re your best friends, so let us be.”

Nate drops his head against the table. He knows they’re right, knows they are being good friends, knows he needs to figure his shit out because this could fuck up the whole team if he doesn’t, and he’s not willing to risk that.

“Fine,” he finally says, and Tyson pets his hair. “But not here. I’m not talking where some random strangers could overhear.”

“That’s acceptable,” Gabe comments. “You good to drive?”

Nate nods, and they shuffle out of the booth, leaving a generous tip before making their way outside.

The drive back is quiet, and when they get back to his house, Tyson immediately goes to the kitchen and returns with a couple pints of ice cream and the rest of their beer supply. He spreads it out on the coffee table before curling against the armrest of the couch, a pint of Half-Baked clutched in his hand.

Nate takes the other end; Gabe falls into an armchair; and EJ spreads himself out on the floor.

“What do you want to know?” Nate asks, trying not to hunch in on himself too much. He’s not sober, not yet, but he’s lost the disinhibition he’d had at the bar when he’d agreed to talk, and he’s not sure how he’s going to survive this conversation.

“We don’t know what there is to know,” EJ points out. “How about you just start from the beginning?”

“What counts as the beginning?”

EJ sits up to give Nate a dubious look. “You’re overthinking this already, aren’t you? How about we start from the day you met Cale and go from there?”

“Well, you all were there when I met him, so nothing special there—”

“Nate,” Tyson sighs and stretches a leg out to press his toes into Nate’s side.

“What?”

“We’re not asking for a play-by-play about what was happening around you. We’re asking what was going on in your head through all of it. Like, we know what happened—maybe not everything, but enough—but we don’t know why it happened.”

“I don’t know why it happened!” he shouts, and Tyson’s eyes widen minutely.

“Okay, then we definitely need to talk this out. Talking can help you make sense of everything.”

“When did you get so wise?” Nate grumbles.

“I’ve always been like this. You just haven’t needed the full extent of my wisdom.”

Gabe snorts and rolls his eyes.

“Be quiet, Landesnerd. Nate is going to talk now,” he says and pokes at Nate’s ribs with his big toe. “So when you met Cale, what did you think? Was it like an immediate thing?”

“No,” Nate hesitates, “I mean, I don’t think it was. I think I was mostly just relieved that he’d finally signed a contract. We’ve been hearing about him since he was drafted, and everyone was talking about how good his season was, getting his team to the Frozen Four and winning the Hobey Baker, so I was just glad to get him on the team.”

They’re all nodding along. Everyone had been asking when the kid would finally sign, and when they heard he’d accepted a contract, it was a morale boost for the whole team, another push to get them a little further.

“I was definitely impressed with his skills,” Nate continues, feeling something in him settle. “Who wasn’t? He scored in his first fucking game and played like he’d been in the NHL for years. Sure, there were some mistakes, some bad looks or missed checks, but he was—is—so good. Like, so good. And I just, I liked having him around, liked playing with him, and I don’t know. I guess, somewhere along the way I started wanting him around all the time. I’d catch myself looking at him or—”

“We’re listening,” Gabe says gently, and Nate swallows.

“I guess I didn’t really realize what was going on until I got off thinking about him. I hadn’t even meant to, like I wasn’t thinking about him at first, but then someone sent a picture to the group chat of him in that stupid cowboy hat, and I was—I mean, I was about to jerk off anyways, and the picture was right there, and I just. Fuck, it just happened.”

“Save a horse, ride a cowboy,” EJ tells the ceiling, and it’s dumb, so fucking dumb, but Nate laughs and feels the tension drain out of him.

“And I just kept thinking about it, especially because he was always around. I mean, Gabe’s the captain; he has to welcome rookies. And you two are the defense leaders, so of course, you’re going to take him in and make him feel like a part of the d-core. So he was always around, always coming to stuff, always sitting with us, and I just—I couldn’t stop thinking about him, and it pissed me off because I didn’t understand what was happening. I mean, fuck, I’ve dated girls my whole life, and I don’t have any problem with gay guys, but I’ve just never been interested in that, so I just—I don’t know—I just thought that I was getting too caught up in the playoffs, too caught up in winning, in winning with him.”

“We’ve won tons of games together. You’ve never wanted to bone me,” Gabe says straight-faced, and Nate snags one of the throw pillows his designer had chosen and throws it at him.

“That’s because you’re you,” he retorts. “But I mean, think about it. You don’t want to bone every girl you meet just ‘cause she’s a girl, eh? Her personality, her interests, her hobbies all matter. I mean, hook ups are a thing, yeah, but even then, you still wouldn’t pick some random chick. You’ve gotta be into her.”

“So you’re not into me?” Gabe asks, faux-hurt.

“No.”

“But you’re into Cale,” Tyson throws in, and Nate blushes.

“I mean, yeah. Obviously.”

“So how’d you go from crushing on the rookie to sleeping with him?” EJ asks, sitting up to watch Nate, and some of his shame returns because that was not his finest moment.

His jaw tenses before he exhales heavily. “We were over at Colin’s playing video games, and I was…I was being a dick,” he admits because it’s true. “I know I was. I was frustrated about losing, yeah, but I was also frustrated that this kid just waltzed into my life and fucked me up without even trying. I know it’s not his fault or anything, but I was mad that he was so good at everything and that nothing seemed to faze him, and there I was falling apart because I’d watched him tape his stick one day and realized I wished his hands were on my dick instead."

Gabe chokes on his beer, momentarily derailing the story as Tyson stands to pat at his back.

“You’d think there’d be a brain in that big head of yours, telling you that you’re supposed to drink the beer, not inhale it,” he sighs forlornly, and Gabe shoves at his hand lightly.

“Fuck off. I just wasn’t expecting that,” he grumbles and settles back down, waving at Tyson to go away. “So you wanted his hands on your dick…”

It sounds even worse coming from Gabe’s mouth, but Nate forges ahead. “So I was an asshole about it because I felt like I should be able to control myself more than that. Then Colin called me out, told me I was being rude, so when he finally kicked us out, I offered Cale a ride back to the Calvert’s because I realized I should probably apologize.”

“And then?”

“And then we hadn’t even left Colin’s driveway, and he turns and asks if he did something to piss me off somehow.” Tyson’s head whips around, and Nate winces because he knows exactly what he’s thinking. “He was talking about how he didn’t want to piss me off because we’re going to be playing together for a while and how we needed to work through whatever had happened, and I just…I kissed him.”

“Damn,” EJ mutters, and Tyson and Gabe echo him.

“Then things just went from there. I took him home, and he ended up staying the night, and I asked him out the next day even though I knew I shouldn’t, and we had fun, and he ended up staying the night again, and it was good. It was really good.”

“The sex or…?”

“I mean, the sex was insane, like, unbelievable.”

“Ew,” Gabe whines exaggeratedly. “Please don’t say that with that look on your face.”

Nate glares. “You asked for it.”

“No, I did not ask for that.”

“So the sex was good,” EJ says, cutting them off. “I could’ve guessed that, but thanks for the confirmation. What about everything else? Because I know you weren’t in bed all the time, yet you still spent all your time with him, so clearly, there was more to it than just the sex.”

If it’s possible, Nate’s flush deepens. Somehow it seems easier to talk about the sex than this, but he’s come this far or whatever. “There was more to it than the sex,” he confirms. “Hanging out with him was easy. Like, it didn’t even matter what we were doing; I went car shopping with him and still managed to have fun.”

“Whoa.”

“Yeah.”

Gabe leans forward, elbows on his knees. “So you had a great sex life, someone you enjoyed spending time with and who, miraculously, enjoyed spending time with you. Sounds pretty great.” Nate nods weakly. “So what changed?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, that sounds like the ideal situation, but you left, so what happened?”

“Nothing happened.”

They all blink at him, faces slack and eyes wide, and Nate just wants to crawl into bed and forget the whole thing. This was supposed to help, supposed to show him how to fix things, but now, he’s just being reminded of how badly he fucked up.

“Alright,” Tyson says, sitting up straight. “Let’s not think about it like that. How about you walk us through the day you left? Shit, that sounds bad. I mean, it is, but—sorry,” he stutters out. “Sorry, just, just talk about that day.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

Tyson sighs. “Okay, well, I know you’d set up plans for that night, so…”

“So I don’t know. Things were good that morning. I mean, we’d woken up and—”

“Yes, let’s skip the details there,” Gabe interrupts.

“Right, so it was a good morning, and we’d talked about going out for dinner and a movie—”

EJ snorts. “Can you say cliché?”

“Do you want to hear this or not, assholes?”

They fall silent.

“So he wanted to spend the morning with the Calvert’s because he felt like he’d been over at my place too much, and after he left, I saw you guys had sent a million texts.”

“And then?” Tyson prompts.

“And then, I don’t know. I was reading through the texts, and you guys were talking about it, about me and Cale, and I just, I freaked out.”

“So you left?”

“So I left,” Nate repeats, and the guilt weighs at his chest, makes him feel like he can’t breathe.

“Okay,” Tyson says. “Okay,” and he shifts closer, pressing his shoulder against Nate’s and resting a hand on his knee. “What were you freaking out about? Was it us? Was it Cale?”

Nate shrugs helplessly. “Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“All of it, everything. I don’t know. It had been so easy before. There wasn’t anything complicated about it, no awkward conversations or dropped hints, no questions about what any of it meant. It just…was what it was.”

“So did…” Tyson pauses. “What…” he pauses again. “Did the texts freak you out? Like what we were saying?”

“I don’t know. I guess. I just, it felt like a reality check when I read those texts. It felt like I’d been the one on vacation, and suddenly, it was over.”

Gabe purses his lips and squints at Nate. “I don’t get it. Why did it have to be over?”

“Because you guys were coming back.”

They all make faces at the words, cheeks pinching and brows furrowing, and Nate doesn’t know what that means.

“Did you think we wouldn’t be okay with it?” EJ asks, and he sounds upset, hurt.

“No, I mean, yes. I—I didn’t think you wouldn’t be okay with it.”

Gabe looks disgusted at the butchered sentence. “Then why would it be a problem that we were coming back?”

“Because you wanted to see me. You wanted to see us!” Nate explodes. “And I didn’t know what that meant, and I didn’t know what you would be expecting or what Cale would be expecting from something like that. I didn’t know what it would mean for us, and I didn’t know how we’d fit into all of this because you’re my best friends, but he’s…well he’s something—was something. And I just, I didn’t want to ruin it. I didn’t want you guys asking a million questions about it, and I didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable or pressured into being something we weren’t.

“And I didn’t want to answer your questions because I didn’t know what was going on. Everything just happened, and I let it because I wanted it, and it was good, so fucking good. But I knew that wasn’t how things were supposed to go because there’s a whole process between meeting someone and whatever we were, and I felt like we skipped a million steps in there, but I didn’t really care at the time. Then suddenly, I did care because you guys wanted him to come with me to that barbeque, and I didn’t know how we were supposed to be around you guys. We hung out with EJ a few times, and I know that was weird, and he tried to ask me about, and I didn’t know what to say.”

He sucks in a breath and continues. “But I could avoid EJ because he was stuck at home, and you both were gone, so I didn’t have to think about it. No one besides you three knew what was going on, so they never asked questions. Not the other guys, not the trainers, no one. I knew you were expecting me to bring Cale and be a couple or whatever, but I didn’t even know if that’s what we were because it had all happened so fast, and I think there’s supposed to be more lead up than that, but there wasn’t, so I didn’t know what we were, and I didn’t know how to answer any questions about it, so I left.

“I booked a flight home as soon as I finished reading the texts, and I left. Got here, shut my phone down, and tried to forget about it all.” Nate lets out a shuddering breath. “And now we’re here.”

It’s quiet, so quiet Nate can hear the thump of his heart loud and clear, beating rapidly from the adrenaline of saying all that, and the guys all look lost in thought. EJ’s frowning at the coffee table; Gabe is running his fingers mindlessly over the patterned throw pillow; and Tyson is gnawing at a fingernail.

Nate slumps down and tips his head back to stare at the ceiling, rubbing his sweaty hands over the front of his jeans.

“Okay,” EJ finally says, and everyone turns to look at him. “Okay, I’m still getting my head around this, so correct me if I get anything wrong, alright?”

Nate nods silently.

“You liked Cale a lot. Actually, you probably still like him a lot.”

Nate nods again.

“I’ll admit you didn’t take the typical route to a relationship, but what does that even mean? There isn’t really a ‘normal’ way to do things; there’s just the way that you choose to do them. And you chose to be with Cale, to sleep with him and take him on dates and spend all your time with him, because you wanted to. There’s nothing wrong with that.

“But it sounds like you got a little overwhelmed when we invited you to the barbeque because suddenly you were going to have to figure out what was going on and put a label to it, but you didn’t want to because that could mess things up. Before you had just done what felt right, no questions asked, so when questions were being asked you freaked out because you realized how quickly everything was moving, and you didn’t even know what it was moving towards, so you bailed. Sound about right?”

It…it does. It sounds like every thought that had been running through Nate’s head as he scrolled through the texts and packed his bags and caught a flight home. It sounds like everything he’d been feeling in the car to the airport, on each of his flights, at home when he’d finally dropped his bags to the floor.

“Yeah, that—that’s it exactly.”

EJ grins widely, self-satisfied, and Gabe tosses the pillow at his head before looking to Nate. “Alright, so you left because you realized things were moving really fast and because you were scared to ask Cale what it all meant because that could ruin what you had.”

It seems small when said like that, but it’s also nice. It’s nice because Nate’s been stuck trying to figure out what was going on while also trying to not think about Cale, and those were pretty hard to do at the same time.

“Yes,” he says, and they all look relieved.

“Well, that’s one problem down,” Tyson says, and he rubs a hand over Nate’s shoulder, shaking him gently. “Good work, buddy.”

“Thanks.”

“Which now brings us to problem two,” Gabe chimes in, and Nate feels his heartbeat ratchet back up. “What are you going to do about it?”

He shrinks in on himself. “I don’t know. I don’t even know where to begin.”

Nodding, Gabe frowns in thought. “Well, I guess the first thing to figure out is how you feel about Cale because that will help decide how you proceed. So, obviously you’re pretty into him, and not just in bed. You liked hanging out with him, taking him out on dates, sleeping with him. EJ said you seemed really happy whenever he saw you together. And were you? Happy that is?”

Nate sighs, and it feels like his chest collapses in. “Yeah. Yeah, I was. He’s easy to talk to, and he doesn’t play games. Like, if he didn’t want to get Italian for dinner, he would just say that. There wasn’t any ‘Oh, whatever you want.’ Or if he didn’t like something we were doing in bed, he’d just tell me and move on. There was no bullshit with him, and that was nice.” He sighs. “He’s also like the happiest person I’ve ever met, but it’s not that fake happy. It’s a genuine happy. If something was wrong and he couldn’t do anything about it, he wouldn’t grin and bear it; he’d just shrug and move on. He wouldn’t let it affect him.

“And he’s got a great work ethic,” Nate goes on, “definitely the guy who puts in extra time on the ice or in the gym after practice, and I feel like he could push me to be so much better. I feel like he would expect me to be better and wouldn’t accept any excuses if I wasn’t. Also, I always feel comfortable around him, like I can just be myself and not worry about doing or saying something wrong. And I,” he stutters to a stop, cheeks flaming red, “I mean, I,” and they stare at him, “I think he’s kind of ruined me for anyone else in bed.”

Tyson mouth drops open in shock, and Gabe literally gasps. EJ just raises an eyebrow. “Well shit, man.”

“Alright,” Tyson says, light and airy, “alright. You really like him. Really, really like him.”

Nate shrugs bashfully.

“And apparently, distance hasn’t changed that,” Gabe notes.

“Not really, no.”

“Then what’s stopping you from just being with him?” Tyson asks and quickly holds up a hand. “Hold on, I need to clarify. The whole being teammates and both being guys doesn’t cut it. Those are weak ass excuses, and you know it. Also, forget the shit show you’ve created by coming out here,” he adds with a mild glare. “Ignoring all of that, what’s stopping you from being with him?”

Nate’s accepted the guy thing and has realized it really doesn’t change much about who he is. He still loves hockey, still can’t dance to save his life, still doesn’t know shit about clothes besides ‘comfortable’ and ‘the tailor said this looks good’. The teammates thing could still be a problem in his opinion, but he’ll disregard that for now, along with the whole ditching town thing.

He thinks about what else could stop them from being together, what other obstacles could get in the way and doesn’t come up with much. “I mean, it might be a little weird for my parents at first, but I don’t think they’d have a problem with it. I don’t know a ton about his family, but from everything he’s said, they seem like cool people. I wouldn’t want to come out though, and I don’t think he would either, so we’d have to keep it secret, which would suck, but we’d still be together.”

“And so?”

Nate heaves a sigh. “I guess there isn’t anything stopping us from being together. If we ignore everything else, of course.”

Tyson snorts, shaking his head.

“So you want to be with him,” EJ says, “and there are some things that could get in the way, but I think most of those could be dealt with pretty easily. The only real problem is how you left, so that’s what we need to focus on.”

“What? Why?”

“Because that’s the only thing that’s keeping you and Cale from happily ever after.”

“The fuck?”

“What EJ is trying to say,” Gabe cuts in, “is that you are clearly head-over-heels for Cale, and he seems to feel the same way about you—”

“You don’t know that.”

“Don’t interrupt, Nathan. It’s rude,” he says breezily. “So Cale, for whatever reason, likes you, too. You make each other happy, which is really what’s most important at the end of the day. Therefore, we need to come up with a plan for how you are going to earn Cale’s forgiveness and maybe a second shot at this.”

“What if I don’t want a second shot?”

They all stare.

“Then you’re lying to us, to yourself, and to Cale,” EJ says, and, well, that’s fair.

“Fine,” Nate agrees, “but what makes you think he’d even be willing to give me a second chance?”

Gabe nods in understanding. “Cale doesn’t seem like the type to hold grudges. I mean, you said it yourself, he shrugs it off, doesn’t let it get him down. And granted, this is a lot more serious than a lot of other things, but I still think he’d act the same. Anyways, he probably needs to hear that he wasn’t the problem, so even if this doesn’t work out, I think you still owe him an apology and an explanation.”

“How would I even do that? Call him and say, ‘Hey. It’s not you; it’s me.’ He’d probably hang up, and I’d deserve it.”

“Yeah, don’t do that. This is not something to be handled over the phone. You need to do it in person.”

“So what, just wait until we’re all back for training camp?”

“No!” EJ shouts, and he’s on his feet. “No! You’ll go to him,” he says and begins pacing excitedly. “You’ll go to Calgary. This isn’t something you can put off until the fall, and it isn’t something you should do in Denver anyways. That’s too close to the team and everything that entails. You’d probably let it get to your head. Also, you need to be the one making the effort here. He shouldn’t have to come to you; you should be going to him.”

Tyson and Gabe are both nodding vigorously.

“Yes!” Tyson shouts. “I’m sure we could get his address. Then you could show up at his door and beg for five minutes of his time. Then you’d explain everything, and he’d call you an idiot, but he’d still kiss you, and you’ll live happily ever after!”

“That’s a bit of a stretch,” Gabe says. “Not that I’m saying you couldn’t work out! But one step at a time. You need to apologize first and make sure he knows it wasn’t his fault. Then you can see if there’s a chance for anything more.”

Nate feels a little overwhelmed, and EJ is giving him a side eye. “That is, of course, if you want this to work out,” he says, and that’s the real question, isn’t it?

Does Nate want it? Should be a yes or no answer, but it’s more complicated than that. There are so many factors affecting this, so many things to consider that he wouldn’t normally have to. They’re teammates. They’re men in the NHL. They were already together, but Nate managed to botch that. This is something that could affect the team, the organization. It’s—

A hand is at his nape. “Stop overthinking, Nate,” Tyson says. “Do you want to be with Cale or not?”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“Nope,” Tyson cuts him off. “You let all the worries and concerns leak in, and you’re going to lose him all over again. Those are things to worry about, sure, but take it one step at a time. Fix things with Cale, and you can figure out the other stuff together. Just don’t try to do it all at once.”

“I think that’s easier said than done,” Nate points out, and Tyson rolls his eyes, longsuffering and fond.

“It is, but that’s what we’re here for. We’ll keep you from going down that slippery slope.”

“So when should we go to Calgary?” EJ breaks in, phone in hand. “Tomorrow? Sunday?”

“We?” Nate croaks.

“We,” Gabe repeats with conviction. “Obviously, you’ll have to have the conversation with him alone, but we’ll tag along to Calgary for moral support. And we’ll be there to cheer for you if things work out or to cry with you if they don’t.”

Nate swallows thickly. “I guess tomorrow then. Maybe in the afternoon? I think I might lose my nerve if I have to wait a few more days.”

EJ grins and scrolls through his phone as Tyson announces that he has managed to acquire the Makar residence’s address.

Nate lets out a slow breath. Fuck, he has good friends.

\----

They end up booking a flight for the late afternoon because Nate wants Saturday breakfast, and he’s sure his parents will get a kick out of seeing Tyson, Gabe, and EJ. He does do his mom the courtesy of a warning call before they descend on her table, and she manages to pull together a great meal, not that Nate ever doubted her.

They’ve finished, and Graham’s offered to show the guys some of Nate’s baby and high school pictures, so Nate had offered to help Kathy with the dishes, though he knows he’ll hear all about it later.

He’s got a plate in hand, covered in suds and water, when the question comes to mind, and he ignores it at first because they’re up to their elbows in soapy water, but it persists, pressing at the back of his teeth until he blurts, “Mom, how’d you know you wanted to spend your life with Dad?” and she pauses, wet rag in hand, and gives him a curious look.

“Well, I guess I just realized he was the right person for me.”

That doesn’t help. “But how did you know that?”

She sets the rag down and turns toward him fully, hands braced on the counter behind him. “We fit together, and I loved him,” she begins. “He was a hard worker, wouldn’t quit until the job was done, and that’s something my dad always taught me to look for. He was—and is—a good man who puts his family first. And I know he can be gruff sometimes, but he’s always been able to make me laugh or smile when I’ve had a tough day. He makes me happier than anything else in the world besides you and Sarah, and there’s no one else I can imagine sharing my life with. There’s no one else I would want to share my life with.”

She finishes with a soft smile and gives him a long, assessing look. “Now what’s this about, sweetheart? I don’t mind the questions, but I feel like there’s something more going on here than curiosity about me and your dad.”

Nate sighs and drops the plate back into the sink, hanging his head. “I messed up with someone I care about a lot,” he murmurs, “did some things I really shouldn’t have because I was scared.” She reaches a hand out and presses it between his shoulder blades. “And I had accepted that I wasn’t going to have this person in my life anymore, but the guys made me realize I was wrong, that I could make things right and that the person is important enough to me that I want to make things right.

“I’m not saying we’re like you and Dad though,” he rushes to say. “I’m not—I’m not thinking about marriage or anything like that, but I think I’m more serious about this person than I have been about anyone else.”

“And is this person the reason you came home so quickly?”

He sighs. “Yeah. Not that they did anything wrong! I’m the one who fucked up. But yeah.”

“And is this person in Calgary?”

Another sigh. “Yeah.”

She cards her fingers through his hair, scritching at his scalp. “And why is this person so important to you?”

“Makes me happy,” Nate mumbles. “I don’t think I’ve ever smiled so much in my life. And they get me. Like, I don’t feel like I’m always having to explain myself or justify the things I do. They understand me and will listen, even if they think my opinion is wrong. And they’re nice to everyone, genuinely nice. Probably couldn’t be mean if they tried.”

“Sounds like a good guy.”

Frantic, Nate whirls around to stare at her, mouth gaping in shock.

“Oh don’t give me that look,” she scolds, swatting at this arm. “I’m not stupid, you know. I’m sure you probably thought you were very sneaky, but I know you better than that.”

“Mom,” he starts but doesn’t know what to say next.

“I love you,” she says and pulls him into a hug, somehow still able to make him feel small even though he outgrew her years ago. “I love you,” she repeats, and he droops in her arms.

“I love you, too.”

“I want to hear all about this when you get back though.”

“Of course.”

“And sweetheart,” she says, tilting her head up, “if he’s everything you say he is, you’re doing the right thing. I know it can be hard to apologize to someone you love after hurting them, but it’s worth it.”

“I know,” he says.

“Now when do you need to head to the airport?”

\----

As soon as they’re on the road, the nerves set in, and Nate feels sick with it. All the confidence from the night before, the certainty that this was a good idea has faded in the light of day, and he briefly considers throwing the door open at a red light and running for it.

He doesn’t, but it’s a close thing, and they make it to the airport in one piece in spite of EJ’s driving.

“What’s there even to do in Calgary?” Tyson asks when they’re through security, slumped in a couple chairs as they wait to board.

“Don’t look at me,” EJ says. “You’re the Canadian. Shouldn’t you know?”

“I’m from BC. That’s a whole different world from Alberta.”

“They’re right next to each other. How different could they be?”

“Dude,” Tyson scoffs. “Dude. That’s like saying Arizona and California are the same place!”

“Arizona is a hot, deserty wasteland, and California is a costal beauty. There’s no comparison there.

Tyson’s face turns an ugly shade of red. “And Alberta is just oil fields, mountains, and cows while BC is the most beautiful province in Canada!”

They squabble about what makes a good comparison (mountains and beach are apparently a classic, while desert and beach are not) and about who is more qualified to judge the matter (neither really, EJ has only been to Alberta and BC for hockey and Tyson’s only been to Arizona for hockey and California for vacation once but EJ says that’s not enough to count) until they’re on the plane and taxiing for take-off.

Nate puts his headphones in to block them out, and somehow they make it to Calgary in one piece. They’re tired and cranky from five and a half hours on a plane without all the leg room the team plane provides, and Nate just wants a nap.

“Kay,” Tyson says, coming to stand beside him, eyes glued to his phone. “Our hotel is about ten minutes away, so you can drop us off there first before heading to Cale’s.”

“I’m not going right now!”

Tyson looks up briefly, unimpressed.

“I need time to settle and prepare.”

“More like procrastinate,” EJ corrects, joining them. “You just had a forever long plane ride to think about what you’re going to say. If you haven’t come up with something yet, I don’t think you’re going to.”

“Hey!”

“He has a point,” Gabe adds, and Nate hates them sometimes. “Now let’s go. I’m in need of real food and a soft bed.”

Nate wants to protest, but they’re already heading for the car rentals, and then Tyson’s pressing a key into his hand and telling him that he sent Nate the address.

He’s behind the wheel before he knows it, trying not to grind his teeth as EJ flicks through the different radio stations, having claimed the front seat as the tallest—by far.

“Should I park or—”

“No, no,” Tyson interrupts as they pull into the hotel lot. “We don’t have that much stuff to carry up, and you have somewhere you need to be. Every second that passes is a second you could have spent in Cale’s arms.”

“Fuck off,” Nate groans.

“Gladly,” Tyson answers with a grin and hops out, shouting ‘good luck’ before closing the door.

And suddenly Nate’s alone in a car outside of a hotel in Calgary, and he doesn’t know how he got here. Well, he knows, but he doesn’t  _know_ , doesn’t understand how he was so weak-willed that he gave into the pressure of his friends and—

There’s a sharp rap at his window, and he jumps, swiveling his head to see Gabe crouched just outside.

He rolls down the window.

“Hey,” Gabe says, “I know you’re probably freaking out right now, and that’s normal. It’s okay to freak out. But you’ve got this. Seriously. It’s going to work out. Whatever happens, it’ll work out.”

Nate grips the steering wheel tightly, knuckles going white over the black leather. “Whatever happens,” he repeats, and Gabe reaches in to pat at his shoulder.

“You’re making the right choice though. No matter what, you’re making the right choice.”

Nate’s not sure it feels that way right now, but he nods anyways because he knows Gabe is right.

“Don’t burn the place down while I’m gone,” he jokes, and Gabe snorts.

“ _I_  won’t, but no promises for those two,” he says, hitching his thumb over his shoulder where Tyson and EJ have moved on to an argument about the best way to eat a muffin (bottom then top is Tyson’s opinion whereas EJ advocates for large bites that get you both at the same time).

“Good luck.”

“You too.”

Nate rolls up the window, watching them head into the hotel, and he wishes he could join them, wishes this was just a fun guys’ trip and that he could spend the afternoon with them, but he can’t. He can’t because they’re only here for him, or because of him, and he needs to make sure that all their efforts are worthwhile.

He queues up the GPS and rolls out of the lot. He has twenty minutes, thirty tops, to figure out what he’s going to say because, yes, he’d thought about it on the plane, but nothing had felt right. It was all too cheesy or too fake, and Cale deserves better than that. Hell, he deserves better than anything Nate can give him.

And there’s a part of Nate that feels like Cale is too good for him, and he knows the guys would be pissed if they heard that, knows his mom would shake her head at him, but he can’t help it. He was the one who messed up. He was the one too scared to talk to Cale, the one who freaked out because it was too much too fast. He was the one who left.

And none of that is helping right now. His palms are sweaty on the wheel, and his chest feels tight and painful, and he feels like his heart is about to explode.

He nearly misses a few of the turns, and he pulls over at one point because he thinks he’s going to throw up, but eventually he gets to the house, stomach still churning.

It’s a classic suburban home, nestled into a cozy neighborhood where trees line the streets and kids run around with hockey sticks or soccer balls. There’s a bike propped against the porch steps and a couple sticks on the lawn, and it looks like any other house.

Nate lets out a shaky breath and opens his door, wiping his palms over the front of his jeans as he approaches the door. He feels unsteady on his feet and briefly entertains the thought of turning around, but that’s not what he came here to do.

“I got this,” he mutters, “I can do this,” and shakes himself, extending a hand to ring the doorbell.

It chimes merrily, playing a little tune before falling silent, and the door creaks open.

“Did Cale forget to tell us you were coming?” and this must be Taylor. He’s taller than Cale and leaner with darker hair and brown eyes, and he’s staring at Nate like he’s never seen him before.

“Uh, no, he didn’t. This is—”

“Taylor, who is it?” a female voice calls out, and then she’s popping out from behind her son, eyes bright and intrigued.

Her smile falters when she seems him, and Nate can feel a heavy weight settle in his stomach.

“Nathan,” she says, breathless and shocked and less-than-thrilled.

“Hi, I—sorry for just dropping in like this. I probably should have called ahead or something. That’s the normal thing to do, I know. I just, I didn’t think of it, but I’m here now.”

“Laura? Who’s here?” and then Gary is there, looking around his wife and son with a grin that fades fast, and Nate shouldn’t be surprised that they know. He shouldn’t, but it still makes his stomach twist and his heart pound. “Nate, uh, how are you?”

“Good. I’m…good.”

“What are you guys doing?” and Nate would recognize that voice anywhere. “I’m going to skip all of your turns if you don’t hurry up.”

And then he’s there, standing beside his parents and his brother, and Nate’s mouth goes dry because he looks even better than he remembers.

“Oh,” and it sounds like it’s been punched out of him.

“Okay,” Taylor says, dragging it out. “Sorry my family’s so weird, Nate. Do you want to come in?”

He looks to Gary and Laura because he would like to come in but doesn’t think he should be accepting the eighteen-year-olds’ invitation when the parents don’t look like they want him within a fifty kilometer radius of their home.

“Why don’t you move so he can come in?” Cale pipes up, and it seems to shake something loose in everyone because they quickly shuffle back, giving Nate the space that he needs to slide inside, the door closing behind him with an ominous thump.

They watch him take off his shoes and set them next to the other pairs lined up in the entry, neat and orderly, and it’s worse than being watched by the trainers or by a scout because he knows he’s not up to their standards, knows he came in with a handicap that he gave himself.

“How about you guys keep playing,” Cale tells them. “I can talk to Nate upstairs.”

“In your room?” Laura asks, sounding mildly horrified. “Why don’t you talk in the den? That’d be better.”

“We’re talking upstairs,” Cale repeats, and he turns around abruptly, walking away without a word, and Nate stumbles to catch up, stepping around the assembled family with a mumbled ‘excuse me’.

His bedroom is clean, trophies lined up on the shelf, bed made, laundry in the basket, and it’s exactly what Nate would’ve expected if he’d ever thought about what Cale’s room would look like. No mess, no loud decorations. A good reflection of its occupant.

Cale waves him toward the lone chair by the desk and takes a post over by the dresser. Neither looks at the bed.

“Is Calgary on the way somewhere for you?” he finally asks, and Nate doesn’t know if he’s relieved to talk about something unrelated or frustrated with himself for not speaking up sooner.

“No, it’s the destination.”

Cale’s eyebrows shoot up. “What would you need to come here for?”

“This.”

“This?” he repeats back, disbelief heavy in his tone.

“Yeah.”

“What the fuck?” he murmurs, and Nate winces. This is going nowhere fast, and he needs to do something before Cale decides he’s wasted enough of his time and kicks him to the curb.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he blurts because it’s the first thing that comes to mind, and Cale’s face closes off, going blank and emotionless. “It wasn’t your fault, and I needed to tell you that. It wasn’t your fault; it was mine. I fucked up. I was an idiot. I take full responsibility, and I need you to know that none of this is on you, okay? None of it. You’re fine. You’re perfect,” he says and chokes on the words. “None of it’s your fault. None of it.”

Cale’s arms are crossed, not in defiance but in defense, and he looks torn between yelling and crying, and Nate hates himself just a little more.

“Okay,” Cale murmurs. “So it’s not my fault, but clearly I did something to push you away. You wouldn’t have left like that otherwise. You would’ve told me you were leaving, would’ve left a note or sent a text, but you didn’t. I wasn’t worth even that.”

“No!” Nate shouts, and they both jump at the volume. “No,” he says again, quieter. “That’s not it at all. You didn’t do anything wrong, and you were definitely worth it, worth so fucking much.”

“I didn’t feel that way when I was sitting at your house waiting for you to come back because we had plans.”

“I know—”

“And I didn’t feel that way when you ignored all of my texts and calls.”

“Yeah—”

“And I didn’t feel that way when EJ, Gabe, and Tyson kept inviting me over to do stuff because they felt bad for me.”

Nate’s jaw clenches, and he fights to keep his temper in check. “I’m sorry,” he bites out, and Cale’s eyes widen.

“Don’t say that just to say it.”

“I’m not! I’m not.”

“Yeah? And what are you sorry for exactly?”

For leaving. For not calling you back. For ignoring you for three weeks. For not being brave enough when it mattered most. “For letting you believe that any of this could ever be your fault,” is what he settles on, and Cale frowns.

“I’ve done a lot of shitty things in the past three weeks, and there’s a lot that I regret, and if you let me, I would apologize for every single one of them. But I know you don’t want to hear that, so I just need to tell you that I’m sorry for making you think for even a second that you were the problem, that you were the one to blame. You’re not. You could never be the one to blame. You’re too good, too nice. You’re the best person I know, and I’m sorry for not making you see that, for not telling you that every single day. I should have. I really should have.”

When he finishes, he stares at the floor, eyes drilling holes into the carpet, and he can hear each shift of Cale’s body, the rustle of fabric on skin.

“So why did you leave?” It’s nearly a whisper, but in the quiet of the room, Nate can hear it so clearly it’s like he shouted.

“Because I was stupid,” he says bluntly. “Gabe and Tys and EJ had been texting me that day, trying to put together a barbeque for the next day, and they knew we were…whatever we were, so they kept saying that you needed to come with me, that you needed to be there. And I realized that they were probably going to spend the whole time grilling us about this, asking nosy questions, and I didn’t know how I was going to answer those questions because I didn’t know what we were. Then, I flipped out because I didn’t know what we were but somehow in like six weeks, I’d gone from not knowing you as more than a name and a face to sleeping with you and spending all of my time with you. And it just sort of hit me that that was incredibly fast and what the fuck were we thinking, and I panicked.”

“Did you feel like you couldn’t ask me? We could’ve talked about it, decided what it all meant for us.”

Nate already knew that, but having it confirmed makes him feel even dumber than he’d thought. “I don’t know. I…I think I was scared that would mess things up.” Cale looks dubious. “Things had been so good. I liked hanging out with you, liked sleeping with you, and nothing was complicated. We just were, and I guess I thought that if we talked about it and if we went to see the guys, things would change, and I didn’t want that, didn’t want to lose what we had.”

“So the solution was to leave?”

Nate cringes. “Obviously I realize how stupid that is now, but it seemed like the best option at the time. The guys were all going to be back in town, and I know how persistent they can be about stuff, so I knew that even if I didn’t go to the barbeque the next day they would just find other ways to pester me about it, and I didn’t want to deal with that. I didn’t know how to deal with that.”

“Therefore, it was easiest to run away from the problem,” Cale intones blandly, and Nate winces because it’s not untrue, but he hates how it sounds.

“In the moment, yeah. I thought that if I wasn’t around they couldn’t ask me questions, then we wouldn’t have to change anything about what we were.”

“I think you leaving changed everything about what we were.”

“Yeah, I—I know.”

Cale sighs and drags a hand through his hair. “What made you decide to come here? Did the guilt just become too much? Or are you hoping that this is going to change something?”

And okay, that’s not the most promising thing to hear, but he still hasn’t kicked Nate out, so he’ll count this as a win.

“The guys came to Nova Scotia, just showed up at my door and wouldn’t leave until I talked to them about everything. It sucked, but it made me think about a lot of things, and when they said I needed to come here and apologize in person, I knew they were right.”

“What did you think about?”

“What?”

“You said that the conversation made you think. What did you think about?”

“I—I thought about why I’d done what I did,” he responds. “At home, I’d tried my best not to think about it because thinking about it meant thinking about you and that hurt too much, but talking to them forced me to think about it, and it helped me understand why I decided to leave. I know the reasons aren’t good. I know I was afraid and a coward, and I let the worry control me, and I’m not proud of that. But it still helped for me to realize that because it meant I could start figuring out what to do about it.”

“And so you figured coming here was the right idea?” His tone is careful and neutral.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

Nate takes a breath, lets it out slowly. “Well first because I needed to make sure you knew it was my fault, that all of it was my fault and that you hadn’t done anything to make me leave. I left because I was stupid and scared. That’s it. That’s why. I couldn’t…I mean, I talked to Tys a week ago and he said that you’d asked him if you had done something wrong, and I just, I couldn’t handle that. I couldn’t let you think that you carry any of the blame here. It’s on me. It’s all on me.”

Cale is biting at his lip, not looking at Nate but more past him. “And second?” he finally asks, blue eyes briefly glancing over Nate’s before flitting away.

“Second?”

“Yeah, you said first, so that must mean there’s a second.”

“Oh, right, yeah. Second,” he begins. “I wanted—well, I know I don’t deserve it and you’re welcome to kick me out or whatever—but talking to them, I also realized that all the reasons I had for leaving were nothing compared to the reasons for staying. And I wasn’t thinking about that when I left. I was giving in to the fear and letting it control me, and I should’ve been better than that. I should’ve taken just a minute to think, but I didn’t, and there’s nothing I can do to change that now. But I want to be better going forward. I know I can be better.”

Cale shifts, redistributing his weight from one leg to the other. “What are you saying?” he asks, quiet but steady.

“I’m saying I want a do-over, if you’ll let me have one,” Nate responds, rubbing his hands together fretfully. “I fucked up. I know that; I’ll own it. I should have talked to you. I should have realized that it wasn’t a decision I could make on my own because it didn’t just affect me. I was selfish and thoughtless, and I hurt you. I know that, and I’ll understand if you want me to leave, but I knew that I had to give it a shot because I didn’t before, and I don’t think I’ve ever made a worse decision than that.”

There’s nothing but the sound of their breathing in the silence that follows, and Nate thinks he can hear Cale’s family downstairs, laughing over their game.

“It was a really dumb thing to do,” Cale tells him, and Nate nods. “It was dumb, and it was shitty. I came over that night and thought you’d probably gone out for a run or over to Tyson’s or something. I waited for hours,” and Nate can feel his heart break. “I sent you texts, tried to call you, and I didn’t get an answer. You didn’t read any of my texts, and your phone always went straight to voicemail, and I was freaking out at first because I didn’t know what had happened. Then I ran into your physical therapist when I went in for a workout the next morning, and she mentioned that you were back home, and that was the worst way to find out.

“You told her, but you didn’t tell me? What a fucking shitty reality check that was. The physical therapist, someone you barely ever saw and barely spent any time with, knew where you’d gone, and I didn’t. What the hell? In what world does that make any sense?”

He doesn’t yell, doesn’t even raise his voice. He speaks at a normal volume, and that almost makes it worse.

“It doesn’t make any sense,” Nate answers. “I wasn’t thinking when I made any of those choices, and that was shitty of me.”

Cale nods, face pensive. “I can’t say I really get it,” he says. “I mean, I understand where you’re coming from, and I know I probably should’ve asked what we were doing after that first night, so I don’t think I can be totally blameless in all of this, but I think you could’ve handled this better. It fucking sucked to be left like that, especially because I had no one to talk to about it, besides the guys I guess, but that felt weird because they’re your friends.

“So I ended up coming home and telling my parents, and now they’re concerned about what this could mean for my future with the Avs and in the NHL. I mean, they’ve known for years that I was gay, but that hasn’t been a factor because I wasn’t going to try and date anyone or hook up or anything. And now—”

“No!” Nate barks and cringes when Cale flinches back. “No, this won’t affect anything. I wouldn’t. I would never. That’s not something—I wouldn’t do that. I would never do something like that. Your future with the Avs is safe, and you’re going to be in the NHL for years to come. This won’t change that.”

Cale nods, and Nate hopes he believes him. “Okay. Good, that’s good.”

Sighing, Nate rakes a hand through his hair, feels the long strands and thinks it might be time for a cut. “So what do you think?” he asks, slumped in the chair, stomach in knots.

Cale exhales heavily. “I…I’m not sure. I’m not going to lie. It was probably the worst thing ever when you left. I didn’t know what to think, didn’t know what to do. All I knew was that you were gone, and I apparently wasn’t important enough to know why or where you’d gone. That hurt a lot.

“But I also can’t lie and say that I don’t want anything with you.” Nate sits up. “I know we never really defined what we were, but it wasn’t just hooking up for me, and I don’t think it was for you either.”

“Definitely not just hooking up,” he blurts, and Cale’s lips quirk.

“Good, but I also don’t think it would be a good idea if we just picked up where we left off. Doing things that way didn’t work out, so we have to do it different this time. And I’d like to take it a lot slower. Not that it wasn’t good last time,” he amends. “I enjoyed it, but it wasn’t the best way to do things.”

“No, you’re right,” Nate admits. “It was good for me, too, but it was fast, really fast, and I didn’t realize that until it was too late and I was halfway to Halifax. Slow is good. I want slow.”

Cale pushes off the dresser and takes a seat on the bed. “So what are we going to do?” and Nate ponders the question.

“Dates are probably a good place to start,” he offers. “Just spending time together, getting to know each other. I don’t have a return ticket yet, so we have as much time as we need.”

“Okay, are…are you free tomorrow?”

“I’m free every day. I’m here for you, nothing else.”

Cale lips quirk, and something flutters in Nate’s stomach. “Do you want to come over in the morning? We were planning on going up to Moose Mountain for a hike.”

“Would your family be okay with that? They…didn’t seem to like me very much.”

Cale grimaces. “They don’t hate you.”

“Wow, okay, it could be worse. Good to know.”

“It’s not like they have much reason to like you,” and that hurts to hear, hurts a hell of a lot, but he’s not wrong. “And because of that, it would probably be good if they had some time to get to know you, warm up to you. Also I, I think it would be good if we had other people around us for now,” he finishes, cheeks burning a vivid red.

“Oh.” It’s a fair point. Nate can’t think of a single time when they were alone and not making out or having sex or building up to one or both of those. “That’s probably a good idea. I, yeah, that’s smart.”

“I should talk to them first though,” Cale says, and he stands. “I’d invite you to stay now, but I think they’d spend the whole time frowning at you.”

“I could talk to them with you,” Nate offers because it feels like the responsible thing to do, and Cale smiles.

“Thanks, but I’m not sure how well that would go. I’ll talk to them tonight, see how it goes, and if necessary, we can talk to them tomorrow.”

“Okay, that’s—that works,” Nate says, and he feels lighter than he has in weeks. “I should probably head out then and let you get back to them. Wouldn’t want to make a worse impression than I already have.”

Grinning, Cale stands. “I’m sure you can win them back over,” he says, and Nate snorts doubtfully.

He isn’t sure how to say goodbye. A kiss would be too much and a handshake would be stupid. Bro hug seems like the best option, but that’s not really the vibe he wants with Cale.

“Hey,” Cale says and reaches out a hand. “Come here,” and Nate can’t move fast enough.

Cale’s arms wrap around his waist, and he ducks his heads against Nate’s neck, and they’re hugging. A full frontal, nothing in between hug, and Nate sinks into it, throws his arms around Cale and breathes in his scent, even though that probably makes him a creep.

“Thanks for coming,” Cale murmurs, and Nate holds him tighter.

\----

He can still feel Cale in his arms on the drive back to the hotel, and he knows that’s the softest shit ever, but he thinks he deserves to be soft.

When he pulls into the hotel lot, he has to call the guys to get the room number, and he’s barely raised his fist to knock when the door is flung open and Tyson drags him inside.

“Dude, how’d it go?” he shouts, hustling Nate over to one of the beds. There’s an assortment of chips and candy spread out everywhere and a couple bottles of booze on the desk, and if Nate had to guess, there’s probably ice cream in the mini fridge.

“You don’t look like you’ve been crying,” EJ observes, and Nate shoves at him.

Gabe pats the bed beside him and waits until Nate has taken a seat before he speaks up, “How did it go?”

“I think his parents hate me.”

It’s the first thing that comes to mind, and it’s not untrue.

They all stare.

“Okay,” Gabe says slowly, “so did they ban you from entering their home?”

“No, they just…weren’t the most welcoming. I mean, they didn’t say anything—I don’t think his little brother knows—but when Cale said we were going to talk, his mom didn’t seem very happy about it.”

“So not the best start,” EJ summarizes. “But I’m assuming you were able to talk because you don’t seem heartbroken.”

“Yeah, we talked.”

Tyson whoops, reaching out to pat at Nate’s shoulder. “That’s awesome!”

“And so? How’d it go?” Gabe asks, ever the reasonable one in the group.

“It was good,” Nate says. “He didn’t pull any punches though, and it was pretty brutal to hear how badly I fucked up with him. I don’t think we’re quite to the point of forgiveness yet—which, I can’t blame him for that—but he’s willing to try things out. I’m going over tomorrow for a hike.”

EJ oohs. “Just you, Cale, and nature. Please don’t have outdoor sex.”

“That’s a no on both fronts.”

“What?”

“His whole family is coming on the hike,” Nate tells them, and their faces go slack in surprise, mouths gaping and eyes widening. “He thought it would be good if his parents got to know me better, so maybe they won’t hate me so much. Also, we’re not going to have sex. At least not for a while. We’re trying to take it slow this time.”

“Well shit,” Tyson says. “You’re going to spend a day with the fam, and you’re not even going to get sex at the end of it? Dude, you are whipped.” Nate tries to protest, but Tyson cuts him off, “I think it’s cute. You finally have a weakness.”

“You did well, young grasshopper,” Gabe says, and he tosses a pack of Swedish fish at Nate. “There’s your reward.”

Nate lobs them back. “I think I have enough obnoxious Swedes in my life. Don’t need anymore, thanks.”

Gabe scoffs but picks up the bag and tears into it himself, chewing the gummy red fish loudly, and Tyson breaks out the ice cream, grabbing a pint and a spoon. EJ seems content to nibble on a bag of all-dressed chips.

“So what’s the plan from here?” Tyson asks around a spoonful of ice cream, and some dribbles down his chin in a milky path. Nate questions his choice in friends.

“I’m staying in Calgary until this works out or he sends me packing. He said he wants to try, and I’m willing to do just about anything to make it happen. If it doesn’t work out, I won’t be able to say I didn’t try everything.”

“Such maturity,” EJ drawls. “Whatever happened to the Nate Mack of yesterday who thought we’d taken him to a bar to get him lights-out drunk so he would confess his undying love for the rookie?”

“Holy shit,” Nate breathes out. “Was that really only yesterday? Holy fuck, man, that feels like ten years ago. This has been the longest day ever.”

“Longer than the day you drank four Red Bulls and stayed up until five trying to—”

“Let’s not do this,” Nate interrupts. “Is there any chocolate? I need a Caramilk or something.”

A waterfall of candy bars spills into his lap. “Take your pick,” Tyson says with a grin. “Made sure to get your favorites.”

And maybe his friends aren’t that bad after all.

\----

They order room service for dinner and flip between bad reality shows, mocking the characters’ disastrous clothing taste and fake fights, and Nate finally turns his phone back on.

There’s a backlog of messages and voicemails, most from the guys and Cale, and he scrolls past those. He’ll listen to them at some point, feels like it’s penance for his sins, but not today. Things are pretty good, and he doesn’t want to rock the boat on that.

To Sidney (goat emoji) (7:35PM)  
Hey  
Sorry for anything Tyson has done in the last couple weeks.  
We’re still training him.

To JDrew (7:37PM)  
Hey, I’m good!  
Just needed to take some time away from everything.  
Sorry about Tyson. (cringey emoji)

To Mom and Pops (7:39PM)  
Made it to Calgary!  
Don’t know how long I’m going to be staying.  
Love you!

From Sidney (goat emoji) (7:41PM)  
Is everything okay?  
Tyson seemed kind of freaked out when he called me.

To Sidney (goat emoji) (7:42PM)  
Yeah, it’s good.  
Just had some stuff I needed to take care of.

From Sidney (goat emoji) (7:44PM)  
Okay.  
I’m here if you need anything.

To Sidney (goat emoji) (7:45PM)  
Thanks

From JDrew (7:58PM)  
No worries man!  
How’s Scotia treating you?

To JDrew (7:59PM)  
Good  
You’ll have to come visit later in the summer.

From JDrew (8:00PM)  
Oh hell yeah!  
I’m there.

From Mom (8:04PM)  
Yay! (confetti emojis)  
Can’t wait to hear all about it!

To Mom and Pops (8:05PM)  
Shouldn’t you be asleep?

From Mom (8:06PM)  
Love you too.

To Mom and Pops (8:06PM)  
Love you.  
Go to bed.

To Cale (8:09PM)  
What time should I be there tomorrow?

From Cale (8:15PM)  
Is 7 too early?  
It’s about an hour away, and the hike takes most of the day.

To Cale (8:16PM)  
No, that’s fine.  
Anything I need to bring?

From Cale (8:17PM)  
Just yourself.  
We’ve got food and water and sunscreen.

To Cale (8:18PM)  
Kay.  
How’d it go with your parents?

From Cale (8:20PM)  
They don’t hate you.

Nate snorts, and Gabe gives him a side eye. “Who are you talking to?”

“None of your business.”

“Oooo,” EJ jumps in. “So it’s Cale?”

“Fuck off,” Nate grouses. “Which one of you unlucky bastards wants to drop me off at his house at seven tomorrow?”

“Can’t you take an Uber?”

“I don’t trust the ones that are willing to drive that early in the morning.”

“Bullshit.”

Nate shrugs. “Either one of you drops me off or I take the car for the day.”

Gasping like the drama king he is, Gabe turns and glares at him. “Is that any way to thank us for being such good friends? Nate, we saved you from yourself and salvaged your relationship with Cale. We deserve better than this.”

“Guess I’ll take the car.”

“I’ll drive,” Tyson volunteers. “You owe me DQ for this though, and I’m getting the biggest, most expensive Blizzard there is.”

“Done.”

To Cale (8:24PM)  
So I can expect to survive tomorrow?

From Cale (8:25PM)  
Yes.  
Well, they won’t kill you.  
The hike might.

To Cale (8:26PM)  
Is it that bad?

From Cale (8:26PM)  
14k up a mountain and back

To Cale (8:27PM)  
Oh my god.  
Your parents are trying to make my death look like an accident.

From Cale (8:28PM)  
(laughing to tears emoji) You’ll be fine.

To Cale (8:28PM)  
You don’t know that.  
Watch to make sure they don’t put anything in my food.

From Cale (8:29PM)  
Got it.

Nate smiles soppily, ignoring Tyson’s knowing look in favor of turning to watch as one of the contestants accuses another of cheating on her with one of the guys, and Gabe gasps happily.

“I called it,” EJ says, and they boo him, tossing Swedish fish and empty chocolate wrappers his way.

\----

On the drive to Cale’s the next morning, Nate is viciously grateful that he forced one of them to take him because he doesn’t need some random Uber driver seeing this and tweeting about Nathan MacKinnon having a panic attack in his car on the way to a teammate’s house.

“He said they didn’t hate me, but what if they do? What if we show up and they say that I’m actually not invited? You have to wait to see if they actually let me come, okay? Don’t leave as soon as you drop me off.”

Tyson lets out a put-upon sigh. “Nate, they’re not going to send you away. It’s going to be fine. You’re all going to go and conquer a mountain together, and his family is going to love you.”

“But they’re not. They hate me, and I can’t even blame them for it. I’m a dick, like a total dick. I slept with their son and then ran away. Of course, they hate me.”

“Nate!” he shouts. “Stop.”

“But—”

“Stop. Cale said you were invited, and he wants you to be there. That’s what matters. I don’t think his parents hate you. I think you’re justifiably panicking right now because this is important to you and you don’t want to fuck it up.”

Nate’s head thunks against the cool glass of the window, and he stares out at the passing landscape. “But what if I do?”

“You want to fuck this up?”

“No! Of course not, but what if I do fuck it up?”

Tyson shakes his head. “You won’t.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because of this,” he answers, waving a hand emphatically. “You’re freaking out about it, which shows how important this is and how much you care. You’re not going to fuck it up.”

“I could.”

“Well, let’s hope not because it looks like they’re ready to go.”

“What?” Nate yelps, jerking around to look out the window to see that they have in fact arrived.

Cale and Gary are standing on the porch, outfitted with backpacks and hats, chatting in the chill morning air. They wave when they notice Nate in the car, and he returns the gesture.

“Doesn’t look like they hate you,” Tyson observes, and Nate turns back with a grimace.

“I’m more worried about his mom than his dad. She seems…protective.”

Tyson pats his knee and gives him a gentle nudge. “You’ve got this man.” His grin takes on a sharp edge. “Just don’t get caught looking at Cale’s butt in those shorts, and you should be fine.”

“What?” he asks and nearly smashes his nose into the glass trying to look.

Tyson whistles lowly. “Dude, you have no chill, none at all. This is embarrassing.”

“Shut up,” Nate snaps. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“You’ve got this, man. Go get ‘em.”

“Fucking hell,” Nate murmurs, throwing the door open and climbing out of the car. “If you don’t hear from me before like three or four, assume I’ve died and have a helicopter sent to retrieve my body.”

“You’re more dramatic than Gabe,” Tyson responds. “You’re gonna do fine. Now, get out of here.”

Nate shuts the door with a final meaningful look and makes his way up the sidewalk.

“Morning,” he greets, reaching out to shake Gary’s hand.

“Good to see you, Nate,” he says and sounds surprisingly genuine. “Sorry about the early wake-up call. It’s a bit of a drive, so we’ve got to get up early if we want to make it up the mountain before the sun’s too high.”

“No worries. I’m excited for it.”

Cale pulls him into a hug, and Nate melts against him like the big softy he has apparently become.

“I told you they don’t hate you,” he whispers, and a shiver runs down Nate’s spine.

“Your mom might.”

Cale grins, and Nate can feel it against the skin of his neck, wide and warm and happy. That fluttering in his stomach is back.

“Gary, where’s the other sunscreen?”

He rocks back quickly, stepping away from Cale. “Hi Mrs. Makar,” he says and holds a hand out.

She looks him up and down, eyes sharp and assessing, and Nate tries to appear as innocuous and trustworthy as possible. He must not do too badly because she takes his hand and offers a pleasant enough smile.

“Call me, Laura,” she tells him. “Mrs. Makar is Gary’s mom.”

“Will do.”

“I’ve got all the sunscreen in my backpack,” Gary says, hefting the bag a bit higher on his shoulder.

“Even the special one for the face?” He nods. “Then I think that’s everything. Taylor!” she calls through the open door, and he appears, yawning and rumpled, looking like he just rolled out of bed and threw on a pair of shoes before coming outside. “Let’s get going.”

“Dibs on the backseat,” Taylor mumbles, shuffling over to the SUV, and Nate trails behind Cale when he turns to follow his brother, crawling into the vehicle that smells faintly of hockey gear and air freshener that could never truly mask the odor of sweaty pads and unwashed socks.

Taylor spreads himself across the backseat and immediately shuts his eyes, while Nate and Cale settle in the second row, seats separated by a foot that feels like ten.

“Nate,” Laura starts as they pull out of the drive, and he tenses minutely, “tell me a little about your family. Any siblings? Pets?”

“Yeah, one sister who’s older than me,” he responds, hoping he doesn’t sound as nervous as he feels. “And I’ve had a couple of dogs. Golden retrievers.”

“Good choice,” she says and proceeds to ask him about his parents’ work, about Sarah’s degree, about what it was like growing up in Nova Scotia and in Sidney Crosby’s hometown as an aspiring hockey player. He tries to reciprocate when he can, fitting in questions about how she met Gary or what she likes to do in her free time, and feels like he does a decent job.

When they roll to a stop and Gary turns the car off, he’s shocked to find they’ve reached the trailhead, and he lets out a relieved sigh. This is maybe going to be okay.

\----

The hike is beautiful, snow-capped mountains dotted with pine trees as far as the eye can see, and Nate falls into the steady rhythm of the uphill climb, chatting with Taylor about his season and what he’s planning to study in college and keeping is eyes above waist level whenever Cale is in front of him. Tyson had probably meant it as a joke, but the shorts do look good on him, and Nate does not need Laura to catch him staring at her son’s ass.

When they make it to the top, the view takes his breath away. He can see a hundred kilometers in every direction at least, can see the ragged peaks and swooping valleys of the other mountains, can see the trees that cling to the rocks tenaciously.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” and he turns to see Laura standing beside him, arms folded over the railing as she takes it in.

“Yeah, gorgeous.”

They admire in silence, breaths slowing to a normal pace.

“You know,” she says, “as a parent, you always want the best for your children,” and Nate goes still. “You want to see them happy, doing the things they love, succeeding. There’s nothing harder than watching your child struggle in school or on the ice or wherever.”

She lets out a heavy sigh. “It broke my heart when Cale came home, looking like a shadow of himself. He isn’t the most talkative, tends to always be the quietest one in the room, but there was something about the silence that was unnerving. He didn’t talk about it at first. He’d shrug off any questions, would say he was fine and that there was nothing to worry about, but I knew there was something going on, especially because he had been so happy in Denver, even with the season over.”

Nate knows exactly how happy he had been. He’d seen his wide, crinkle-eyed smiles, had watched him laugh when Nate made some dumb joke.

“It took a few days for him to open up, and I can’t say I was surprised to hear your name.” A chill runs through Nate, and he ducks his head. “Not because I expected the worst from you. I didn’t,” she pauses, “and I don’t now, but Cale would call us most days, tell us how things were going and how he was settling in with the team, and your name came up so much more than anyone else’s. ‘Nate and I went to a basketball game. I tried a new sushi place with Nate. Nate helped me find a car.’ You were always around, and Cale sounded so happy whenever he talked about you.

“I’m not saying any of this to make you feel bad, Nate,” she tells him, and even if that’s true, he knows he would still feel bad. “I just want you to know because I love my son, so much, and when he came home, quiet and hurt, I was furious. We’ve known Cale was gay for years, and while I want him to just be able to live his life with whoever he wants, we all knew that that would be hard with hockey, and he was prepared to accept that. He was ready to put his personal life aside in favor of pursuing his dream. Then suddenly you were in the picture, and he realized that maybe he could have both, hockey and love.”

Nate had thought he couldn’t feel any worse, had thought he’d hit rock bottom listening to Cale yesterday, but this might be worse.

“He was so happy. He told me he had been so happy with you, and I think that made it hurt even more. He’d been happy, and he thought you were happy, but then suddenly, you were gone.”

“I was happy,” Nate confesses, voice tight. “I was so happy with him.”

She nods approvingly. “I’m glad to hear that, and I’m glad you came here to see him. I still haven’t forgiven you for hurting Cale, and I don’t know when I will, but I’m happy that you’re making an effort. I know it can be intimidating to start a relationship with someone, and I know that these are especially unique circumstances, but it is worth it. If it’s the right person, it’s worth it, and that’s what you have to remember. Even though it may seem scary and new, you have to decide that it’s worth it and then make sure you act in accordance with that decision.”

“He’s worth it,” Nate stutters. “Cale, he’s worth it.”

She smiles wryly and glances over to where Taylor is forcing Cale to take a picture with him, making a ridiculous face as they stand against the backdrop of mountains. “I know that,” she says softly. “Now he needs to know that, and you’re the only one who can make that happen. I’m his mom; I’m supposed to say he’s worth it, so even though I mean it with all my heart, he doesn’t put much stock in it. But you, you’re not his parent, not his brother, not someone who loves him because he’s blood. You’re someone who would love him by choice, who would choose to be with him, and sometimes, that love means so much more than the love of a family member.”

There’s a heavy silence when she finishes, and they listen to Cale tease Taylor about a girl he’s texting and watch a bird soar from one tree to the next, pecking at the branches in search of food.

“I don’t think I can say I love him yet,” Nate admits, and she gives an understanding nod. “That’s…that’s a lot, and I don’t think either of us is at that point yet.” Swallowing, he stares out at the distant horizon. “But I think I could get there. I think I’m halfway there already, and when I realized that, it scared the hell out of me. I’ve known him for what? Two months, give or take? I shouldn’t feel this much already. I shouldn’t feel like he’s the most important person in my life, but he is. He is, and when I understood that, I realized I needed to make sure he knew that.”

He sighs heavily. “There’s a lot of stuff that makes this complicated, stuff that we’re going to have to figure out to make this work, but I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”

She turns to face him, and he mirrors her, trying to convey his sincerity as he holds her gaze.

“You’re a good person, Nate, and I know that everyone makes mistakes, so I can’t hold this against you. I know it’s complicated, and I know things might not always be easy, navigating a relationship as professional athletes, but I know you can find a way to figure things out.”

Nate looks over her shoulder and can see Cale shooting them worried glances. “Yeah, we can,” he tells her, and she pulls him into a hug, catching him off-guard.

“Please don’t hurt him again. Please.”

Chest tight, Nate nods and smiles at Cale’s look of shock.

\----

The hike back down is easier, both literally and figuratively, and when they pile into the car and Cale reaches between their seats to take his hand, Nate can’t help the goofy smile that spreads across his face.

Taylor gags behind them, and Cale turns to push him, initiating a short shoving match that ends with a cleared throat from the front.

“Both adults, yet you still act like five year-olds,” Gary jokes, and he catches Nate’s eye in the rearview mirror with a what-can-you-do grin and shrug.

\----

He ends up staying in Calgary for two weeks, though the guys leave after a couple days with teasing chirps and quiet congratulations.

He spends his mornings working out with Cale, trying not to pop a boner since his shorts hide nothing, and then passes the afternoons hanging out at Cale’s, going to the nearby golf course (where he loses abysmally) or playing ball hockey in the family room with Taylor and Gary (who insist that he and Cale aren’t allowed to be on the same team because that’s not fair).

The days bleed into each other, a blur of warm sunlight and soft smiles from Cale, and Nate wishes that he could stay forever.

Eventually though, Sid is asking about when he’ll return and Andy is making noise about in-person sessions because there’s only so much he can do remotely and his mom is sending him increasingly annoyed texts because she wants an update on his boy, so Nate buys his return ticket and tries not to hold it against them.

On his last night in town, Laura makes a farewell feast, and they spend the evening stuffing their faces and playing rummoli, talking about the upcoming season and Taylor’s first year at university, and Nate feels an ache in his chest at the thought of leaving.

After dinner, Cale grabs his hand and pulls him out into the twilight-lit yard, closing the door firmly behind them, and Nate can feel his stomach jump.

They lay out in the grass and watch the stars slowly appear above their heads, winking into existence as the last of the sunlight fades, and Nate can feel the heat Cale is putting off beside him, painfully aware of every shift and breath he takes, body on high alert because this is the first time they’ve been truly alone in over a month.

“I really like you, Nate,” Cale murmurs into the cool night air, and Nate’s heart feels two sizes too big for his chest, “and the last two weeks have been amazing. I think,” he pauses, “I know I want this to work out, but I need to know that you’re on the same page if this is going to go anywhere.”

Nate tips his head to look at Cale, traces the swell of his lips and the straight line of this nose with his eyes, piecing the words together in his head before opening his mouth.

“I am,” he says, “on the same page.”

Cale turns to look at him, eyes a beautiful blue, and Nate tries to match the intensity of his gaze, tries to make him see how serious he is about this. “Good,” he says, and his fingers brush over Nate’s arm and wrist before curling around his own. His hand is warm and solid in Nate’s, grounding him in the moment. “So where does that leave us?”

“I wish I didn’t have to go,” Nate admits, squeezing Cale’s hand. “I wish I could just stay here, but I know I can’t. And I’ve always heard long distance kind of sucks, but it’d only be two months, and we could call and skype all the time.”

Cale grins, “Maybe not all the time,” and Nate can feel the fluttering in his stomach. His mouth is dry, and his hands are clammy, and he wants to stand up and walk off the nerves, shake his arms out until he settles down, but he also wants to never move, wants to keep Cale’s hand in his, wants to stare at his smile until Cale tells him to stop.

“Maybe not,” he whispers, “but as much as we can. Then, beginning of September, we’ll be back in Denver, and I’ll take you out on a million more dates and ignore the guys when they give us shit about it, and I’ll resign myself to hanging out with Matt’s crazy kids because it means I’ll be with you.”

“You really want all that?” Cale asks, and there’s a certain wonder in his voice. He doesn’t sound surprised or shocked, just breathlessly happy.

“I want everything with you,” Nate responds confidently. “I want it all with you, all of it.”

“Yeah?”

Nate rolls onto his side and props himself up on an elbow. “Cale Douglas Makar,” and Cale snorts, “will you be my boyfriend?”

Cale’s smile softens, turns into something sweet and besotted, and Nate loves it, loves being the reason for it. “Nathan Raymond MacKinnon, I would love to.”

Relief washes through Nate, and he lifts a hand to cradle Cale’s face. “Good. Can I kiss you now?”

“Please,” Cale answers and slides a hand behind Nate’s neck to pull him down.

It’s just a press of lips, soft and gentle, but it sends a thrill zipping down Nate’s spine, goosebumps bursting across his skin, and he leans into it, bracing a hand besides Cale’s head and trying not to moan too loudly, hyperaware of Cale’s family inside.

They break apart with a sigh. There’s a flush high in Cale’s cheeks, painting them a vibrant red, and his breath is unsteady, chest rising and falling, pressing into Nate where he’s half over him.

“You’re beautiful,” Nate murmurs, thumb stroking over his cheek, and the flush deepens. “So, so beautiful. Like straight up stunning—”

Cale’s grip tightens on the nape of his neck, and he pulls him down for another kiss, deep and open-mouthed. Nate groans lowly and pushes into it, tongue slipping out to drag over Cale’s lower lip, teeth nipping at the skin.

With a hitched breath, Cale shifts beneath him, bending a leg up and out, and Nate’s thigh slips between his.

“Oh my god,” Cale whimpers, one hand tangling in Nate’s hair and the other clenching around a fistful of his shirt.

Nate rocks down, grinds against Cale’s hip and lets his thigh press against him. “Shit,” he hisses.

It’s almost a relief to feel his dick swelling rapidly, stiff and aching in his shorts, because it’s been too fucking long. He hasn’t even tried to jerk off since Tyson had called him, too guilty because his brain would inevitably bring up an image of Cale, and forget about getting it up for anyone else. His failure at the bar had made that clear.

“Nate,” Cale groans, and it’s like music to his ears.

He wraps a hand behind Cale’s knee and hitches his leg up higher, working his hips in a dirty grind.

“Nate, Nate, hold on. Hold on,” and he’s pushing gently at Nate’s chest, urging him up and off.

Breathing heavily, Nate pulls back and tries not to come just from the sight of Cale beneath him, mouth wet and cheeks rosy. “What?” he mumbles. “What is it?”

“Can we—” He swallows, and his eyes dart away from Nate’s. “Can we wait?”

Nate’s stomach drops uncomfortably.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he’s quick to clarify. “I want to. I really want to, but I’m not…I’m not ready. I know that probably sounds weird. I mean, we’ve already had sex, so it’s not like it’s our first time, but I just, I want to wait. I think we should wait.”

He’s biting at his lips, eyes fixed on some point over Nate’s shoulder like he’s embarrassed, and that’s not okay. That’s exactly what Nate wants to avoid this time.

Still painfully hard, Nate rolls to the side, props himself up on an elbow, and looks down at Cale. “Hey,” he murmurs and rests a hand over Cale’s, waiting until their eyes meet. “I’m not sure I’m ready either. I mean, obviously I want it,” he says with an aborted gesture at his crotch, and they both laugh quietly. “But just because we can and want to doesn’t mean we should. We rushed into it last time, and even though it was without a doubt the best sex of my life,” Cale’s eyes go wide, and his cheeks get impossibly darker, “I think that it’s going to be even better if we wait.”

Nate can feel his cheeks heating to match Cale’s. “And I mean,” he mumbles, “it’s called making love for a reason, right? I don’t want to fuck you. I want to make love to you, and that sounds like the kind of shit my mom would read in some romance book, but it’s true.”

And Cale isn’t laughing at him yet, so he continues, “I told your mom on that hike that I wasn’t quite to the point of loving you, but I felt like I was getting there, and I think the last two weeks have only pushed me closer to that point, and I don’t want to ruin that by doing anything tonight. Even though my body’s ready to go, I don’t think I am.”

His cheeks are flaming when he finishes, and he feels like a fucking sap, but Cale’s smile stretches wide, eyes crinkling with it, and he flings himself forward, arms wrapping tightly around Nate. The force of it rolls him onto his back, Cale solid and real above him, and he holds him close, burying his face in his hair and smiling soppily.

\----

His second return home feels good.

It had sucked to say goodbye that morning, and he already has his phone out with a new message pulled up, but things don’t feel hopeless and wrecked like they had before.

Kathy keeps sneaking glances at him from the front seat, eyeing the phone in his hand with interest, and Nate tries to fight off a blush.

“How was Calgary?”

“It was good.”

“Did the boys stay the whole time, too?”

“No, they left after a few days.”

Graham huffs. “So what kept you there?” and Nate doesn’t want to have this conversation in the car, wants to wait until they’re home, where there’s space to move around and where he won’t feel trapped.

“Had some stuff I needed to take care of. We can talk about it at home.”

He raises an eyebrow at Nate but doesn’t ask any questions, and Kathy fills the rest of the drive with chatter about how the garden is coming along and how much the dogs missed Nate.

When they pull into the drive, he hauls his suitcase out of the back and tries not to let the dread overcome him. He’s not worried about his parents getting upset, knows they’ll support him, but the task is still daunting, still feels more important than it probably is.

Last night, he’d asked Cale about how he had told his parents, confessing that it kind of scared the shit out of him, and Cale had offered a lopsided smile and a story that had made Nate feel like it wouldn’t be too bad. They had accepted it easily, had only been worried about how he would be treated in the locker room, and they had supported his decision to keep it private. If Cale at 14 could tell his parents, Nate at 23 sure as hell should be able to.

They gather in the living room, squeezing onto one sofa together, and Nate feels like a teenager again, caught coming back past curfew with the taste of cheap beer on his tongue. Kathy rests a hand on his knee, gentle and reassuring, and he lets out a whooshing breath.

“I guess the best place to start is from the beginning,” he says with a grimace, and they both nod, Kathy emphatically and Graham confusedly.

“I should probably warn you that this isn’t the best story, and I’m not proud of everything that happened, but I’m working on it, and things are better now.”

Graham’s brow has furrowed further, and he reaches around Kathy’s shoulder to pat Nate’s back.

“You can tell us anything,” he says gruffly, and Nate sighs.

“I slept with Cale after the playoffs, Cale Makar, my teammate,” and they both look at him in shock. “We’d been hanging out, and one thing led to another, and suddenly we were sleeping together. It…it just kind of happened that first time, but then we started going out, and he’d stay the night most of the time, and I just , I know we should have talked about it before jumping into things, but we didn’t. So when EJ, Tys, and Gabe tried to get together, they wanted me to bring Cale as…as whatever he was for me, and I freaked out because things were going too fast and I didn’t know where it was going, so I left. I packed and caught the first flight home that I could.”

“Oh god,” Kathy murmurs softly, and Nate bows his head.

“I know it was a shitty thing to do. I knew it then, too, but I was so caught up in the panic that I didn’t let myself think about anything else. I came here, and I shut everything out because I didn’t want to deal with it. That’s why Tyson kept calling, and that’s why the boys ended up coming out here. They knew I’d fucked things up, and they weren’t going to let me run away from it. They made me talk about it, and I realized that I needed to fix it, so we went to Calgary because that’s where Cale’s from, and I showed up at his house to apologize.”

“You don’t seem heartbroken,” Graham comments, “so it must have gone well.”

“It did. I mean, the apology didn’t make everything better or anything, and Cale’s too smart to just take me back with open arms, but he said he was willing to try again and do it right this time, so that’s who I was with in Calgary. That’s why I went to Calgary.”

“So what’s that mean, doing it right?” Graham asks after a pause. “How are you gonna avoid fucking up this time?”

“Graham!”

“What?” Graham protests. “He said he fucked up, and he did. Cale’s a good kid; he doesn’t need Nate hurting him twice, so I want to know what he’s doing right this time.”

“He’s right. Mom, he’s right,” Nate says. “I did fuck up, and Cale deserves a hell of a lot better than I gave him, so I need to do it right this time, no running away, no being too scared to talk about stuff. So that’s what we did for two weeks, a lot of talking, getting to know each other, and just taking things slowly, and it was really good. It is good,” he amends. “We know where we’re at now, and we’ve talked about what we want, and it’s good.”

Mouth turned down, Graham nods several times, then pats Nate on the back. “You did good kid, did the right thing.”

Kathy wraps him in a sideways hug. “I’m proud of you,” she says, and Nate feels something in him unwind.

\----

The weeks pass slower than he would like, each day dragging on longer than it has any right to, though Nate does his best to fill them with training in the gym and on the ice. He spends more time at his parents or at Sid’s to distract him from the emptiness of his home and tries not to count down the days until training camp.

“It’s only another month,” Cale says over the phone one night, sounding fondly exasperated.

“Do you know how long that is?”

“Thirty days usually or thirty-one. Twenty-nine if its February. Twenty-eight if its leap year.”

Nate can’t help the smile that breaks over his face because it’s exactly Cale’s quiet, dry humor, and he wishes he could see the accompanying smile and crinkled eyes, but he can’t because there’s still thirty or thirty-one days in his way.

“Feels like forever,” Nate mutters unhappily, and Cale’s soft laughter floats down the line.

“But then we have a whole season, and,” he hesitates, “I mean, I guess we could have the off-season, too, but—”

“No, no,” Nate is quick to say, “I want the off-season. I definitely want that.”

“You sure? After eighty-two games and a deep run in the playoffs, you don’t think you’ll be sick of me?”

Nate rolls his eyes, even though Cale can’t see him. “No way.”

“You never know.”

“But I do, and even if you have weird habits that start to bug me, I’ll just remind myself that these were the two worst months of my life, so I’d rather have you than not.”

Cale snorts. “God, you’ve turned into an absolute softy, eh?”

“Well, I miss you.”

“Yeah?” Cale asks, and he probably doesn’t mean to, but his voice comes through low and rough, and Nate can feel the arousal pool in his belly.

He sinks into the couch and lets a hand slide down his body. “Absolutely. Don’t you miss me?”

“Fishing for compliments?” Cale quips. “You can do better than that.”

“Is that a no?” Nate asks, palming lightly over his dick and biting at his lip.

Cale huffs out a breath. “No. Of course I miss you, and it kind of sucks that you’re on the other side on the country, but I think this has been good.”

“You think?” and he grinds the heel of his hand down, hips hitching up.

“Yeah. It’s been really good.”

Nate hums his agreement and rubs his thumb over the head of his clothed dick, breath hissing out between his teeth.

“Nate,” Cale says, breathy and shocked, “are you…”

A groan forces its way up Nate’s throat. “Yeah, I—” He pauses and sits up. “Is that okay? Sorry, I should’ve said something or asked. I shouldn’t just—”

“No, no, you’re fine. It’s good.” There’s the sound of movement on his side, footsteps on stairs and a door clicking shut. “I just wasn’t ready for that. We were watching a movie before you called, and I wasn’t expecting this.”

“I can stop,” he tells him, pulling his hand away. “You can go back to the movie.”

“No, I don’t—I don’t want to.” A light creaking accompanies the words. “I want this.”

“You sure?”

A sigh comes down the line, and Nate burns with it. “Positive.”

“Fuck,” and he tips to the side, rolling onto his back and letting his legs sprawl. “Cale, fuck.”

“Where are you right now?”

“On the couch,” Nate responds, reaching to slide his zipper down. “What are you wearing?”

Cale laughs. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, isn’t that how this is supposed to go?”

“I don’t know,” Cale says, breathless. “I’ve never done this.”

“Me neither,” and Nate slips his hand beneath the waistband of his briefs, fingers trailing through the hair to wrap around his dick.

There’s fabric rustling on Cale’s end, the rasp of cotton on skin, and Nate tries to imagine what he’s doing. “Well, I was wearing shorts and a t-shirt,” he finally says, and Nate chokes.

“Was?”

“Yeah, was,” Cale answers, and then he moans right into the speaker. “What about you?”

Nate shoves at his jeans and tugs at his shirt, trying to wrestle both off at the same time with little success. Regretfully, he puts the phone down to peel the offending garments off, throwing his shirt halfway across the room in his annoyance.

When he picks the phone back up, Cale is laughing on the other end, bright and amused, and Nate has missed this so much, missed Cale’s laughter in his bed and in his ear.

“Don’t laugh at me,” he complains and licks a stripe up his hand before getting it back around his throbbing dick.

“Sorry,” but he doesn’t sound it. “I’m assuming you’ve ditched the clothes.”

“Yeah.”

Cale hums appreciatively. “You know your friends sit on that couch.”

“What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

“Fair enough. Now, am I supposed to tell you what I’m doing? Or do we not talk and just go for it?”

Nate thrusts up into his hand, groaning at the friction. “I want you to talk.”

“About what?”

“Pretty sure you could talk about the weather, and it’d get me there,” Nate admits, “but I’m not opposed to hearing what you’re doing right now.”

“Currently, I’m trying to figure out how hard it would be to keep my phone in place so I could finger myself,” he says in his matter-of-fact way, and Nate groans.

“Holy shit.” His hips stutter in their rhythm, and he squeezes until it’s the wrong side of painful and he no longer feels too close to the edge.

“It’d probably be easier if I had headphones. Hands free, you know?”

Hands free, so he’d be able to work himself open, getting everything wet and messy and perfect.

“We’ll have to try that next time,” and he sounds disappointed. “I’d grab them now, but they’re downstairs, and there’s no way in hell I’m going back down there anytime soon.”

Nate nods, then realizes Cale can't see him. “Should definitely do that next time,” he grumbles, thumb working at the head of his dick, swirling through the precome and spreading it down his length. “Should do this over FaceTime, too.”

Cale moans. “Definitely couldn’t use both hands then,” he points out, and Nate smiles.

“That’s fine. We can mix it up.”

Cale hums, and it vibrates right through Nate, electric.

“I should warn you that I’m already close, like really close.”

“Yeah? Does my voice get you that hot?”

“Yes,” Nate admits without an ounce of shame. “I’ve also missed this. God, I still can’t believe how stupid I was giving this up.”

Cale is quiet, and Nate slows down, listens to him breathe.

“Nate?”

“Yeah?”

“You remember the last night you were here?”

“Of course.”

“I think I do.”

Nate’s brain is fuzzy with arousal, thoughts slow as molasses, so he’s not sure what he’s supposed to get from that. “What?”

“I think I love you,” and it’s said so simply, straightforward and direct, and Nate’s heart thumps in his chest.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it, and I’m pretty sure I do. You don’t have to say it back or anything. That wasn’t—I’m not expecting that. I just thought I should tell you, and it’s okay—”

“Cale.”

“Yeah?”

“I think I do, too,” and it’s easier than he thought.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to say it just because you think I want to hear it.”

“I’m not. I do. I’ve been thinking it for the last week at least, but I’ve been too scared to say it. Guess, you’re still the braver one.”

“Nate,” he says, soft and sweet, and Nate wishes he could see his face, wishes he could see the smile that lights up his eyes.

“I love you,” and it’s so much easier the second time, ringing with a truth he’s known for too long.

Cale’s laughter is bright and happy. “I love you, too,” and Nate tightens his grip, hand picking up speed.

The orgasm feels as inevitable as the words, and when it washes over him, he can’t help but repeat them like a mantra, soaking in Cale’s answering moans.

\----

The words break down the last of Nate’s barriers, and a few days later, exhausted from a good workout, he finally forces himself to listen to the voicemails that have sat in his inbox for months. He’s put it off for weeks, telling himself that he can do it later, though later never comes, and he knows he can’t keep delaying. If he says he loves Cale, he needs to live like he does, needs to be everything he deserves, needs to not be the man that left him. Therefore, he needs to face the last reminder of his mistakes, so he can move on.

With a deep breath, he queues up the first message. 

“Apparently you’ve forgotten how to text,” Cale greets, and he sounds terribly fond, “so I thought a call would be better, but I guess that’s no good either. Did you get lost on your run? Call me back.”

“Nate, I’m kind of starting to worry,” he says, voice pinched. “It’s late, and we’re definitely not making it to the movie anymore, but at this point I don’t really care about that because I’m worried about you. Are you okay? Call me.”

“Nathan,” and it’s Gabe’s voice, judgmental and disapproving. “I don’t know where you are or why you aren’t answering. I’m assuming something came up that was very important because you didn’t even take the time to tell Cale that you couldn’t make your date. I understand that that may take precedence, but it’s rude not to tell him. Also, why the fuck can’t you come tomorrow? Goodbye.”

“Hey, is everything alright?” It’s Cale again, sounding slightly less harried. “I texted Gabe, but he doesn’t know where you are either. He said you had something though, said you couldn’t make it to a barbeque at his house or something. I totally understand if something came up at the last minute, but I’m still worried about you. Call me back, yeah?”

“Hey, so you’re home, I guess,” and he sounds tired, voice hushed. “I hope everything’s okay. Your physical therapist didn’t seem to think anything bad had happened, just said that you needed to go home.” There’s a heavy sigh. “I know I’m being ridiculous, but does this have anything to do with me?” Nate’s chest constricts painfully, and his breath catches, stuttering in and out unevenly. “That probably sounds so self-centered, and I don’t mean it like that, but—but you told the physical therapist that you were home, and Gabe knew you were gone, and I just, I’m probably reading into this too much, but I don’t know, I just…Sorry. I should go.” His voice is quiet by the end, fragile-sounding, and Nate’s heart aches.

“You fucking dick.” It’s angry and violent, and Nate pulls the phone away from his ear, grimacing at the sound of Tyson’s fury. “How could you do that? You just packed up and went home? What the fuck, dude? What the fuck? Look, I don’t know what was going on with you and Cale, and I don’t know if something happened that made you think it was smart to leave, but what a weak move, man. Don’t be a fucking coward. Call him.”

“Tyson said you’re home,” and Gabe is back with a quiet rage. “I don’t know what the fuck happened between you and Cale, and frankly the longer this goes on, the more I’m thinking it was you who fucked up because you’re hiding out in fucking Nova Scotia while he’s here willing to work through shit. Grow the fuck up, Nate. The kid is a mess over this, and I think he blames himself, which is utter bullshit. Call him, you bastard.”

“Hey Nate,” and EJ doesn’t seem pissed, but he’s pretty good at disguising that kind of stuff. “I know Tys and Gabe have been calling you, so I’m sure you’ve already heard it from them, but I just wanted to say that you’re making the biggest mistake of your life.” He sighs heavily, and Nate can hear him shifting, probably into a more comfortable position for his shoulder. “I don’t know what happened, but I don’t think this is the right way to handle it. Cale’s a good kid, who deserves the best, and you’re not giving that to him. And maybe that means this is all for the best because you’re out of his life, but I remember seeing the way you were around each other, and buddy, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you that happy before. I don’t know why you left, but I sure as hell hope it was worth losing him. Bye, Nate.”

“Hey,” Cale says, rough and choked, and there’s a painful swoop in Nate’s stomach. “I’m not going to call again. I’m probably annoying you with all these messages, sorry. I’m heading home tomorrow. I know you probably don’t—that probably isn’t important. Sorry.” He lets out a shaky breath. “Anyways, I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I could be wrong, but I’m pretty sure I’m the reason you left,” and he sounds exhausted, wrung-out. “Coach said your family is doing fine, so it’s not that. And apparently you’ve been in contact with management and the doctors, so it’s not like you’ve dropped off the map completely. Gabe, Tyson, and EJ all said you aren’t responding to them either, but I feel like that has more to do with you not wanting to talk about this than anything they did.” There’s a long pause, and Nate pulls the phone away from his ear to see if he’d accidentally hung up or something. “Did I do something wrong?” Cale asks, and Nate feels the air whoosh out of him. “I’ve tried to figure out if I did, but nothing comes to mind. I’m sorry if I did, and whatever it was, I didn’t mean to.” He inhales wetly. “I’m sorry, Nate. I’m so sorry.”

A beep sounds, and the automated voice asks if he would like to delete the message, repeat it, or save it.

There’s a deep pain cutting through him, sharp and visceral, followed by a wave of white-hot anger, and he doesn’t know who it’s directed at more: himself or Cale.

Before he can even think, he’s pulled up Cale’s number and hit call, waiting as it rings.

“Nate, hey,” and he sounds so different from the Cale who left that last message.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he grinds out, and Cale releases a soft, shocked sound.

“What?”

“It wasn’t your fault. I told you it wasn’t your fault,” and it comes out desperate and pleading. “Please, don’t blame yourself.”

“Nate, what’s this about?” he asks, confused. “I thought we already talked about this. I thought we were past that.”

“I know. I know, but I finally listened to all the messages you left, and you asked what you did wrong. You asked what you did wrong! You! You could never do anything wrong.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“Okay, maybe not,” Nate concedes, “but it’s definitely true in this case. You did nothing wrong. Nothing. I’m sorry for leaving, and I’m sorry for never answering your calls, and I’m sorry for making you feel like this was your fault. I’m so sorry,” he whispers hoarsely and hangs his head, eyes squeezed shut against the tears.

“Nate.”

“Yeah?”

“Stop blaming yourself,” and he says it forcefully enough that Nate’s head snaps up in surprise.

“What? But it was my fault. I deserve the blame.”

“Not anymore. You messed up, yes, but we’ve moved on from that. I forgave you for it. I forgive you.”

The words take the wind right out of Nate’s sails, and he’s left speechless and gaping, making senseless noises as he tries to process the words.

“I’m sorry,” Cale continues softly. “Clearly I should have said that before. I forgive you, Nate,” and it’s like that first breath you take after you’ve been underwater for too long, painful but liberating. “It’s the past, and we’ve moved on. I don’t hold it against you, so please, don’t hold it against yourself.”

Nate is nearly shaking with relief, the pain and anger fading rapidly, and he feels foolish.

“Sorry, I’m sorry. I’m being ridiculous now.”

Cale chuckles fondly. “It’s okay. I can handle ridiculous,” and Nate wishes he could reach out and pull him close, feel that smile against his skin and press his face into Cale’s hair.

His next exhale is heavy like he’s pushing the last of the sorrow out, and he feels lighter for it, no longer burdened with the shame of past transgressions.

“I have to go to the gym,” Cale says gently after Nate’s breathing has returned to its normal rhythm, and he remembers it’s still morning there.

“Right, yeah.”

“But I’ll talk to you tonight, eh?”

“Tonight.”

“Yeah.”

“I love you.”

He can almost hear the smile in Cale’s voice when he responds, “I love you, too.”

\----

Though Nate enjoys the last few weeks at home, he’s relived when the Vail camp begins because it means the preseason is just around the corner, and preseason means team, and team means Cale. He is understandably distracted—not during the workouts, of course—and Sid gives him a funny look the third time he has to shake him to get his attention, but Nate just shrugs hopelessly, and they move on.

It feels strange to walk into his house the day he lands in Denver, too many memories fighting for his attention, and he lets out a slow breath and begins to unpack, noticing the spots where Cale’s toothbrush should lay or his spare clothes should be. He wants it all back, wants Cale’s stuff all over his house, wants his very essence pressed into the walls.

He knows that’s a distant goal. Cale had told him pointblank that he was going to be living with the Calvert’s for the full year, that he felt it was what he needed for his development as a player, and Nate had agreed. Matt is a veteran who can mentor Cale through his first year in the league and provide him with the family environment he is going to be missing after a summer at home. It’s what he needs; Nate knows that and reminds himself of it constantly.

**Hottest Team in the League**

Horse Girl (8:26PM)  
BBQ at my place tomorrow at 4.  
Attendance is not optional, unless you aren’t back yet.  
I know who is and who isn’t  
So don’t try and lie.

Gabe the Babe (8:28PM)  
This will be a team-only event.  
Leave the kids at home.

TBeauts (8:29PM)  
Does that mean I can’t bring little Tyson? (teary-eyed emoji)

RoastyJosty (8:30PM)  
Fuck off.  
Sammy and Cale are both younger than me.

Mikko (8:31PM)  
Not mentally.

Jimothy Timothy (8:32PM)  
(string of fire emojis)  
Roasted.

RoasyJosty (8:33PM)  
I hate you all. (middle finger emoji)

Gruby (8:34PM)  
Do not lie.  
You love us.

RoastyJosty (8:35PM)  
Only you Grubs.  
No one else.

\----

Nate arrives at the barbeque early with a pack of beer and a dumb horse figurine that he and Cale had picked up at a tacky gift shop in downtown Calgary, and EJ is predictably enthused by the present while Gabe complains obnoxiously about being forgotten until Nate shoves the pack of beer at him, moving to help EJ carry a couple of platters of veggies outside.

Guys start pouring in quickly, carrying bags of chips and bottles of liquor, and it’s an endless cycle of who did what or went where, and Nate gets his fair share of chirping when he says he spent the summer at home, no big travels or crazy adventures.

He’s chatting with Brass and Sammy when Tyson shouts, “Cale!” and he swivels in his chair fast enough he almost tips it over. Cale isn’t supposed to be here; he’d said he wasn’t flying in until tomorrow. Nate has his flight marked in his calendar because he was going to pick him up from the airport, but he’s here, in EJ’s backyard, looking solid and fit and like the best thing Nate’s ever seen.

With a half-hearted apology, he scrambles to his feet and weaves through the scattered chairs, picking his way around teammates with mumbled excuses and gentle nudges to clear the path.

A hand snags his wrist before he reaches the patio, and he spins to see EJ looking at him, brows raised and eyes wide. “Don’t be stupid,” he says. “Seriously. Unless you’re ready to come out to the whole team, which I don’t think you are.”

“I’m just going to say hi.”

“It looks like you’re about to go eat his face.”

“It does not!” he protests, and EJ gives him an oh-really? look.

Nate…can’t actually disagree because looking at Cale makes him want to eat a lot more than just his face, and that is not the kind of thoughts he should be having in a yard full of teammates that don’t know and probably won’t for a while.

“You’re impossible,” EJ says and waves a hand. “Cale, my favorite vegetable, come here!” He turns to Nate. “You’re welcome for saving you from yourself again.”

“Shut up,” Nate grumbles, but he turns to watch Cale making his way toward them, accepting handshakes and slaps on the back as he does.

“Hey man!” EJ shouts, wrapping him up in a truly ridiculous hug that would piss Nate off if he didn’t realize what EJ was doing.

“What’s up, EJ?”

“Oh, just chatting with our buddy Nate here, teaching him the intricacies of adulthood.”

Cale arches a single brow. “Pretty big word there. You been working on crossword puzzles in your spare time?”

EJ gasps, affronted, and Nate smiles. “Hey,” he says, moving forward for a hug that might go on a bit longer than it should but no one cares because EJ’s had been longer. “Did I get the wrong flight info? Because I have you down for eleven tomorrow.”

Cale shrugs and grins. “Thought I’d let it be a surprise.”

“Okay, nope,” EJ declares, shoving them toward the table. “I don’t want to see this or hear this, and no one else does either. Please, go get some food, Cale.” He bends closer, “And if you sneak off to have sex in my house, I will kill you both.”

Cale flushes hotly, stumbling away from EJ with a protest, and Nate wants to remind himself how far down that flush goes.

“Go, eat,” EJ repeats, and they make their way towards the overflowing table, walking close enough for their hands to brush every few steps. Nate will blame it on the alcohol if anyone asks.

“Did you get all of Taylor’s stuff moved in?” he asks after they’ve returned to Nate’s spot and he’s snagged a random chair to pull in for Cale. There’s not much space between his chair and Nemo’s, so it’s only reasonable for Cale to be so close.

“Yeah, his roommates seemed like good guys. I think he’s going to like it.”

“Did you offer him any wise older brother advice? Tell him not to take any 8AM classes?”

Cale rolls his eyes. “I fell asleep in that class one time. One time! And the professor wasn’t even mad because he came to all the games and thought I could use the rest.”

“What a teacher’s pet,” Nate mocks, and Cale shoulders him lightly, then doesn’t move away, the heat of his skin seeping through the two layers that separate them.

“Nathan!” someone shouts, and Nate leans back from where he’d been swaying closer to Cale. It’s Gabe, and he groans. “Nathan, my dear Alternate, you can’t hog the rookie,” he announces and lays a hand on both their shoulders. “Just because this child is destined for greatness does not mean that you can claim him as your rookie. He needs someone more mature, more refined to guide him through this transition.”

Nate snorts because Gabe is only mature and refined in front of cameras, and even then, it’s only half the time.

“Nate just wants to say he mentored the kid,” Colin comments from down the table, “so that when he wins the Calder, he can take credit for it.”

Everyone hollers their agreement.

“You have to share the rookie love, Nathan,” Gabe tells him with a straight face, and Nate is going to kill him, right here, right now.

Tyson pops up beside them with a manic grin. “Yeah, sharing is caring,” he singsongs, and Cale’s cheeks are scarlet.

“Fuck off, assholes,” Nate gripes, swatting at Tyson’s hand when he tries to pinch Cale’s cheeks.

“Oooo,” JT tuts, “territorial,” and Nate feels betrayed by his ginger brother.

“Someone has to keep him away from your bad influences.”

That gets a round of laughter from everyone within earshot, comments about Nate’s influence coming from every direction, and even Cale gives him a somewhat dubious look.

“You’re all the worst,” he informs them and takes the biggest bite of his burger he can.

\----

The barbeque continues in much the same way. Nate will get too close to Cale, a hand on his knee or an arm over the back of his chair, and someone will come swooping in to drag him away to help with the grill or to tell Cale for the millionth time how happy they are that he has finally joined the team.

Nate’s currently pushing his luck by the fire pit, sitting on the cement with his back propped against Cale’s chair, his legs spread to accommodate the width of Nate’s shoulders.

He can hear Z begging off from whatever game Colesy is trying to pull him into with excuses about jetlag and not wanting to leave Alex with a cranky toddler, and it still kind of blows his mind that Z is one of the few guys on the team with a kid.

Matt stands and admits that he should also return home to the wife and kids, and Nate’s stomach sinks, but he only waves goodbye before heading for the exit, and Cale hasn’t moved.

Nate tips his head back to stare at him, and Cale lifts a single brow.

“Did you not ride over with Matt?”

“I did.”

“But he just left.”

“He did.”

Eyes going wide, Nate stares at Cale and feels his mouth go dry. “Are you…”

“If you want,” and he says it so casually, like he didn’t just rock Nate’s world with three words all over again.

Nate wets his lips and watches Cale’s eyes track the movement. “Of course, I want,” he murmurs. “Are you sure?”

Cale nods. “Positive.”

“Can we leave now?”

A smile splits his face, and he shakes his head. “That would be way too obvious.”

“I don’t think I really care about obvious right now,” Nate admits, and he really just wants to pull Cale down for a kiss, an awkward, upside down, Spiderman-esque kiss.

“You’ll care when they start asking us a million questions before we can get out the door, and we’re stuck here instead of in your bed.”

Nate groans. “Why do you always have to be right?”

“One of us needs to be the voice of reason.”

“Nate!” someone hollers, and he grunts in response because he’s tired of meddling teammates and of only getting off through skype or a phone call.

“Nathan!” the voice calls again, and he only just resists the urge to press his face against Cale’s inner thigh.

“What?” he yells back, and Tyson is waving at him from the back door.

“Get over here!”

“Why?”

“Because!”

Cale runs a hand through his hair, and he wants to press into it like a cat demanding attention, but he stands instead. “Save my seat,” and Cale snorts but agrees.

Nate jogs across the lawn, only to find Tyson needed him to settle an argument with EJ about the proper pronunciation of gif (EJ insists it’s a hard g-sound, while Tyson is staunchly on the j-sound side).

“You’re both dicks,” Nate informs them, and they both take offense.

\----

If Nate thought the months leading to the end of summer felt long, the hour and a half that Cale makes them wait is an eternity, each second ticking by slower than the last, and when Nate doesn’t think he can take it anymore and is strongly considering ignoring EJ’s warning and dragging Cale into one of his many guest bedrooms, Cale stands and thanks EJ for the food.

“It’s always a pleasure, though I’m sure you’ll enjoy dessert more.”

Cale blushes fiercely, and Nate wants to punch EJ right in his smug, toothless grin, but they make it out with no punches thrown and only mild death glares given.

They climb into Nate’s car, and looking over at Cale, he’s hit with an intense of déjà-vu.

“I’m really glad I kissed you that night,” he blurts, and Cale turns to stare at him, befuddled. “That first night, when we left Colin’s house. I’m really glad I kissed you. I mean, I know things got kind of messed up after, but I’m still glad it happened.”

Reaching out, Cale slides his fingers through Nate’s. “Me too,” he says with a squeeze. “Now take me home, and make good on that promise you made me in my backyard.”

Nate can’t start the car fast enough, and he barely stays within the speed limit as he drives through the streets of residential Denver, trying not to get distracted by the steady sweep of Cale’s thumb over the back of his hand.

When they pull into his driveway, Cale exits the car at a normal pace, and Nate is tempted to grab his hand and drag him inside to have his way with him, but—he reminds himself—he doesn’t want to rush this. They rushed before, and it turned out poorly. Nate has waited months; he can wait a few more minutes.

They slide their shoes off in his entry, and when they’ve finished, Cale intertwines their fingers and leads him back to his bedroom without a word, hand warm and steady against Nate’s.

In his room, Cale turns to look at him, gaze heavy, and Nate reaches out to pull him in, relishing the solid press of his body, the physical reminder that he’s here, he’s back. He lifts a hand to cradle Cale’s jaw, and he sways in for a single kiss, lips meeting Cale’s in a delicate press.

He scatters kisses across Cale’s rosy cheeks and up the strong line of his nose, over his fluttering eyelashes and around the tips of his ears. By the end, Cale is chasing his lips, head tilting this way and that, whining in quiet frustration, and Nate rewards him with a slow, sucking kiss, losing himself in the wet slide of their tongues.

Cale’s hands trail up his arms and around his shoulders, burning fiery paths over skin and bone, and Nate loops his arms round his waist and drags him closer until he’s certain there’s nothing between them but shirts and shorts.

He toys with the hem of Cale’s polo, fingers dipping beneath the fabric to skate across his heated skin.

“Take it off,” Cale tells him, and he steps back enough for Nate to lift the shirt up and off, revealing a well-defined chest and abdomen, and this is so different from the Cale of April. He’s thicker in the middle and broader round the shoulders, and Nate wants to explore every inch on him, wants to catalogue every change, but Cale’s hands are pulling on his shirt now, so Nate raises his arms and shivers as the fabric slides over his skin.

As soon as the shirt falls to the ground, Cale reaches out and presses a hand to Nate’s side, fingers splayed across his ribs, and Nate swallows thickly. He traces over his ribs and the cut of his hips, pausing to follow the line of hair that starts at his navel and disappears beneath the line of his shorts, fingers feather light.

Unable to stay still, Nate hooks a finger through one of Cale’s belt loops and tugs him forward until they meet, sucking in a sharp breath at the feel of Cale’s bare skin against his own, warm and real and exactly what Nate has been craving for months.

The next kiss is just as slow as the others, lips moving purposefully as Cale loops an arm around his neck to hold him in place. He bites at Nate’s lips, tugging lightly before soothing over the ache with his tongue, sending electric shocks zipping down his spine, and he groans.

There’s been a low-grade arousal simmering in his belly since he first saw Cale at the barbeque, and it’s only increased with every lingering touch and heavy gaze, and now it’s at a boil with Cale pressed against him, firm and unyielding.

Nate breaks the kiss, shuddering when Cale whines and leans forward for another. “Hey,” he murmurs and waits until Cale’s eyes are open and on his. “How about we get the rest of these clothes off?”

Nodding, Cale moves to undo the button of his shorts, but Nate bats his hand away, sliding the button free and the zipper down before hooking his thumbs in the waistband to pull them down along with his briefs.

Mouth dry for the taste of him, he stares down the length of Cale’s body, taking in the thicker thighs and firmer (if that was even possible) ass, eyes lingering on the almost vulgar way his dick juts out, swollen and red, and Nate wants that in his mouth, in his hand, but Cale is reaching forward to return the favor, knuckles brushing over Nate’s straining length as he works the zipper down.

When they’re both naked, Cale steps towards the bed and falls back onto it, shifting up until his feet no longer hang over the edge, and he extends a hand toward Nate with a smile, “Come here.”

Nate nearly trips over himself in his haste to touch all the fair, flushed skin that’s haunted his dreams and teased him over skype, so close but so far. He groans, long and low, at the first press of their bodies, collapsing in the sprawl of Cale’s legs and reverently running his hands up soft thighs.

He ducks down for a kiss, open-mouthed and deep, that turns into another and then another, and he loses track after a while, caught up in the sensation of Cale beneath him after so long, feeling more fuzzy-headed and drugged with each kiss.

They’re rocking together, hips working in tandem, and Nate can feel an orgasm building, so fast it leaves him light-headed. Cale’s legs are around his waist, holding him down as he rises to meet each thrust, and Nate bites at the soft skin of his neck, nibbling along the tendons as Cale moans softly, hands scrabbling to find purchase on Nate’s sweat-slick skin. They’re going at a blistering pace, feverish in their movements, and Nate wants to let go, wants to come, knows he could from this, but he’s spent the last two months thinking about tonight, about their first night back together, and dry humping to completion was not a part of that plan.

He eases back, resisting when Cale’s thighs clench around him and peppering kisses over his neck and jaw when he whines from the loss.

“Hey, hold on,” he breathes out, “hold on.”

Cale pouts, and it should be ridiculous, but Nate can’t find it to be anything but adorable, and he busses a kiss to the tip of Cale’s nose.

“Hold on,” he repeats and nudges at Cale’s legs until they unwind, dropping to the bed as he huffs, and Nate stretches out to pull open the nightstand, rummaging for the lube and a condom as Cale watches.

“I want to make this special,” he confesses after he’s rolled the condom on. “I promised this would be special. Let me keep that promise.”

The pout has faded into a fond smile, and he nods, relaxing into the sheets as Nate pours lube over his fingers, rubbing it around to warm it up before sliding a finger behind Cale’s balls. He circles the tight furl, massaging at the skin and teasing around the rim. When Cale looks like he’s about ready to criticize the slow pace, Nate presses a single finger against the rim, watching as it sinks in, as captivating as ever. He slides the finger in and out, crooking it in search of Cale’s prostate and grinning when he jumps at the first touch, a delicious whine spilling from his lips.

Carefully, Nate adds a second finger, and Cale arches off the bed, toes curling in the covers as he pushes into it, hips working smoothly. Nate can see his abdomen ripple with every shift, can feel the way he tightens intermittently around Nate’s fingers until he adds a third, relishing the sigh Cale lets out at the stretch.

“Nate,” Cale murmurs after a few minutes, and he tears his eyes away from where his fingers are buried deep in Cale, letting them trail languidly up the beautiful lines of his body, feeling breathless and overwhelmed and so in love he could die from it.

“I love you,” he says, and Cale whimpers, hands reaching out to pull him up for a heady kiss, lips working against one another in a toe-curling rhythm.

“I love you, too,” Cale responds when they finally pull apart, and Nate isn’t sure he’ll ever get used to hearing it. “Now,” he continues, settling into the covers, “make love to me.” His tone is heavy, voice dropped low, and Nate can’t help the laugh that bubbles up his throat.

Cale tries to pout, but it doesn’t hold, and soon he’s laughing too, eyes crinkling at the corners, and Nate isn’t sure what he did to deserve this, but he’s determined not to fuck it up this time.

Smile stretched almost painfully wide, Nate gazes fondly at him. “I really do love you,” he tells him, and Cale’s answering grin is brilliant.

“Show me,” he says, and it’s a plea and a challenge rolled into one.

Nate bends for a lavish kiss and reaches between them to guide himself in, breath stuttering as he pushes past the tight ring of muscle.

“Shit,” he hisses when the head pops in, pausing to collect himself because he’s missed this so fucking much, missed the hot, wet heat of Cale around him, missed the punched-out moan Cale releases, missed the press of their sweat-slick bodies.

“More, Nate,” he pants. “Come on, I want it. I can take it.”

Nate nods, unable to speak, and he rocks his hips forward minutely, slowly inching his way in. He groans when his thighs are flush with Cale’s ass, eyes squeezed shut as he tries not to lose it in the next ten seconds.

Cale lifts his legs to wrap them around Nate’s waist once more, ankles hooking at the small of his back, and he presses kisses to Nate’s hair where his head is buried in Cale’s neck, hands stroking across the expanse of Nate’s back, sliding over muscle and bone in broad sweeps.

“This is probably going to be over fast,” Nate finally admits, lifting his head to meet Cale’s warm, blue eyes.

Cale ducks close and busses a kiss to his forehead. “Luckily we can do this again tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that. We’ve got time, plenty of time.”

Nate surges forward and captures him in a fierce kiss, pouring as much of his love into it as he can, nipping and sucking until he’s certain their lips will still be red and puffy come morning.

“You’re perfect,” he says, and Cale shakes his head fondly.

“If you say so.”

“I do,” Nate replies and pulls out, listening to Cale whimper at the loss, before pushing back in.

They fall into it as easily now as they had the first night, moving together like they were made for it, biting kisses into necks and shoulders, both working to get that perfect angle that has Cale arching off the bed in pleasure.

But now the moans are interspersed with breathless ‘I love you’s and fervent promises that they’ll do this again and again and again, and Nate feels terribly raw from it all, like he’s been pulled apart and put back together a thousand times over.

Cale’s nails are carving red welts into his back, and his teeth are pressed to the hollow of his throat, biting a mark that is sure to rise blood-red and blindingly-obvious against his pale skin, and Nate never wants this to end, wants to spend forever wrapped up in Cale, pressing into him and feeling the hot clutch of his body.

“Your hand,” Cale pleads. “Nate, I need your hand,” and he wraps a tight fist around him, stroking in time with his thrusts.

He tries to kiss him again, but at this point, their movements are too erratic, and it’s more like they’re breathing against one another’s mouths, but he doesn’t even care because he’s hurtling towards an earth-shattering orgasm, and he needs to make sure Cale gets there too, needs to see him fall apart beneath him.

He flicks his thumb over the head of Cale’s dick.

“I love you,” he whispers fiercely, and Cale screams, going impossibly tight around him and pulling him over the edge, too.

He collapses, trying to cushion his weight as much as possible, and breathes raggedly into Cale’s neck, exhausted and satisfied.

“I love you, too,” Cale mumbles, and Nate presses a tired kiss to his lips before rolling to the side and flopping onto his back with a groan.

“All that conditioning, and I still feel like I’m dying from this.”

Cale nods, hair a sweaty wreck, sticking up in every direction where it’s not plastered to his forehead. “You should ditch the condom so we can cuddle.”

“You want to cuddle when we’re all sweaty and gross?”

In response, Cale pushes at his shoulder until Nate reluctantly stands on wobbly legs and rolls the condom off, going to the bathroom to throw it away and stopping to wet a washcloth.

When he returns, he places a gentle hand on Cale’s knee. “Can you spread them for me?”

Groaning, Cale squints at him. “I really can’t go again for a while.”

“Me neither, I just wanted to clean up a little bit.”

Cale spreads his legs wordlessly, and even though Nate knows they won’t be doing anything more tonight, he still feels a weak pulse of arousal in his belly at the sight.

Reaching forward, he wipes at Cale’s thighs and ass, making sure to be gentle around his hole, and he chucks the washcloth toward the laundry bin when he’s done, miraculously making it. Cale lets out a pitiful cheer, then makes grabby hands at Nate, and he goes easily, spreading out on his back and tucking Cale under his chin, arms wrapped tight around him.

\----

When he wakes the next morning, the first thing he sees is Cale, looking soft and beautiful in the morning light, hair still a riot, and he presses a kiss to his cheek and the corner of his jaw, watching as his eyelashes flutter open to reveal pale blue eyes.

“I want this every morning,” Nate confesses and flushes hotly.

With a soft smile, Cale rolls onto his side and breaches the space between them, resting a hand on Nate’s chest just above his heart. “I’m living with the Calvert’s this year,” he reminds him, “but I could stay once in a while, and there’s always road trips—once the guys know, obviously. You have your own room, so we wouldn’t have to worry about sexiling a roommate.”

Nate grabs his hand and pulls it to his lips for a sleepy kiss.

“And, you know, there’s always the off-season and next year. I should be adjusted enough that I won’t feel like I need to stay with one of the vets anymore.”

“I am one of the vets,” Nate tells him with a grin, and Cale hums, scooting closer.

“Then maybe next year, I’ll just request a move to a different vet’s house. How does that sound?”

“Perfect,” Nate murmurs and catches his lips in a slow kiss.


End file.
